


Time To Go Home

by Night_N_Gail



Category: WordGirl (Cartoon)
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Other, Returning Home, Science Fiction, Self-Doubt, Unrequited Love, Villains to Heroes, letting go, space travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2019-07-12 21:22:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 86,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16003553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Night_N_Gail/pseuds/Night_N_Gail
Summary: "You alone possess the power to save our people. Do you understand?"Becky's face paled, and she stood motionless for a moment. She understood perfectly… and so did I.-:-Post-series





	1. Peradventure

 

_For my little brother, without whom this story would not exist._

 

 

_**Hey, readers! This chapter references the episodes 'Best Fanclub Meeting Ever.'** _

 

**Foreword:**

**All right, here we go! XD** _**Time to Go Home** _ **will follow the continuity of my previous chapterfic** _**Saving Tobey** _ **, but it's also an independent story, so you don't need to read its predecessor first to understand it. Any important references will be explained in the narrative itself, while less important ones will be explained in the Author's Notes. Just be aware that this fic will contain some pretty big spoilers for** _**Saving Tobey** _ **for those who might be interested in reading it.**

 

* * *

 

Peradventure [pur- _uh_ d- **ven** -cher] – chance, doubt, or uncertainty.

  

« « « « « ж » » » » »

  

“Oh, Captain Huggyface, there's no place like home!” I exclaimed dramatically, collapsing on the sofa after a long day of fighting crime.

My faithful monkey companion rolled his eyes and chirped a reminder that I still had my WordGirl costume on.

“Oh, right,” I muttered with an embarrassed chuckle. I pressed the star on my chest, and instantly my wardrobe reverted back to a purple pleated skirt and a layered pair of pink and white tops.

Two years ago, shortly after the whole 'Rhyme and Reason' fiasco, Violet had convinced me that I needed to tell my family about my secret life. I had been scared at first, but once the first few awkward weeks had passed, telling them had proven to be the best decision I'd ever made. By now it had been so long since I'd needed to hide my identity from them that I'd grown lax about wearing my superhero garb around the house.

“Becky, is that you?” Mom's voice called out as she appeared in the doorway across the room leading upstairs. She saw me before I had the chance to respond and happily continued, “Oh, you're back! Tobey is here for your play date.”

I rolled my eyes and restrained a sigh. “Mom, I'm fourteen. Don't you think I'm getting a little old for play dates?”

“Well, if it makes you feel more grown up, I could just call it a date,” Mom flippantly replied, right as Tobey stepped into the room from behind her.

“Mom!” I shouted, rising sharply from my seat. Tobey flushed with embarrassment, and more than likely so did I.

“Oh, I'm just kidding,” Mom chuckled with a dismissive flip of her hand. “Claire and I shouldn't be more than a couple of hours, so you two have fun, okay?”

She danced off without a care in the world, leaving me and my 'date' standing across the room from each other in awkward silence.

Bob unhelpfully gave me a pat on the back as if to say 'good luck,' then marched off to the kitchen, leaving the two of us alone and making the silence even more awkward.

Tobey sheepishly glanced up at the ceiling and shoved his hands in the pockets of his navy green cargo pants.

“Soooo,” he muttered at last, “'Sup?”

I heaved a flustered sigh, then smiled at him. “Smooth, Tobey.”

In moments like these, it was hard to believe how much he'd changed since I first met him over four years ago. Back then he would've sauntered into my living room with either a cocky smile or a disappointed scowl, depending on his mood, and I would know that my day was doomed as soon as he started babbling in his silly British accent as though I didn't know it was fake. Since the groundbreaking pep-talk I'd given him last year about being true to your true self, I hadn't heard him use it unless there were other people around. He still wasn't completely comfortable with the sound of his real voice, but honestly, I had grown to like it. It had begun to get a little deeper and more mature-sounding in recent months, and besides that, it represented just one of many pleasant changes he'd adopted since that fateful day almost two years ago…

“How's the villain scene looking these days?” Tobey asked, bashfully shrugging his shoulders.

That time I had to giggle. “Not as interesting since _you_ went straight,” I said, “but not as frustrating, either.”

Yep, that was it. That was the big change that had started it all. A few months before I told my family I was WordGirl, Tobey had figured it out. That had been one of the scariest days of my life. One careless slip of the tongue during lunchtime at school one day, and the next thing I knew he had trapped me in his room during one of our routine play d been sure that he would blackmail me or divulge my secret identity at the next VillainCon just because he could. To my relief and surprise, he had done nothing of the sort. He teased me with his new-found leverage, to be sure, and I endured a stressful few days of wondering what he was planning to do, but not long after that, it became apparent that he had no desire to expose me. When at last I'd gotten up my nerve to confront him about this, his response had been shocking.

'I never wanted to hurt you,' he said, 'I just wanted to know dates and forced me to choose between protecting the city and protecting my own anonymity. It was an obvious choice, but not an easy one. After Tobey had proof of my identity, I had been mortified. I thought that my days as WordGirl were over—that there was no telling what would happen now that one of my enemies knew my secret.

The weird thing, though, was that _after_ he'd finally confirmed that I was WordGirl, things between Tobey and I had actually started to improve. Back then I had been sure that he would blackmail me or divulge my secret identity at the next VillainCon just because he could. To my relief and surprise, he had done nothing of the sort. He teased me with his newfound leverage, to be sure, and I endured a stressful few days of wondering what he was planning to do, but not long after that, it became apparent that he had no desire to expose me. When at last I’d gotten up my nerve to confront him about this, his response had been shocking.

‘I never wanted to hurt you,’ he’d said, ‘I just wanted to know who you were.'

That was when I'd realized just how different he was from all the other villains who troubled me on a daily basis, and from that point on everything just… snowballed.

“Ooh! Wanna see my new invention?” he asked, perking up suddenly.

“Sure,” I replied. One of the things I'd realized long ago was that Tobey's motivation to cause trouble with the things he made was a lot less potent if someone took an interest in those things, rather than just wondering what kind of trouble he'd cause with them.

Tobey lit up with excitement and reached into his pocket, producing a small hand-held device. Funny how I didn't get nervous anymore when he did that.

He'd gotten into computers at space camp last summer, and now instead of building a special remote for each kind of robot he built, he just wrote programs that let him control them all from a pocket PC that could probably put the equipment at NASA to shame. He'd also come home from that camp a little taller than me, I couldn't help but notice.

“You'll love this,” he promised, pressing a button on his palm-sized supercomputer.

I heard a tinny-sounding bark, and moments later a mechanical puppy came scampering into the room. It was clunky and a little awkward, lacking most of the visual aesthetic that made real dogs so cute, but there was something about it beyond the way it looked that just screamed 'puppy.' Its movements, its demeanor, the way it _behaved_. It gave another happy bark, then bounded forward so excitedly that it tripped over its own feet—though it didn't seem to notice.

“Awwwwww,” I exclaimed, reaching down to pick it up as it ran into my arms. “It's adorable!”

I tickled its tummy, and it barked happily and thumped its back legs in the air like a real puppy would.

“I designed it to simulate authentic dog behavior,” Tobey explained proudly, grasping the collar of his blue sweater with both hands and yanking it from either side. Since he'd stopped wearing a bow tie he'd instead taken to tugging at the front of his collar when he was feeling confident or accomplished—a quirk that was both funny _and_ ironic.

“What's its name?” I asked.

“It doesn't have one.”

I snuggled the robot to my face and it licked my cheek. Its tongue was rubbery and somewhat stiff, but textured so that it still reminded just a little of a real puppy's tongue. “You should name it Cuddlepie.”

Tobey made a disgusted face. “Cuddle...pie?”

“What?”

“Nothing. Never mind,” Tobey shook his head and forced a smile, but also rolled his eyes and hastily changed the subject. “Anyway, watch it change size.”

“Not in the house!” I exclaimed, cringing at the thought of this cute little guy with his head poking through a hole in the roof and his wagging tail decimating the attic.

“No, it's okay, look,” Tobey assured. He pressed a button on the computer, and the dog shrank to about the size of an egg right before my eyes. Its diminutive bark squeaked in my ears, and I just about went catatonic from the cuteness of it.

“Oh my goodness, Tobey,” I blathered happily, getting down on my knees and smiling stupidly at the miniaturized dog. “You're a genius!”

“Well, that's a given,” he bragged, though I noticed a thread of bashful hesitation creep into his mostly cocky tone.

I looked up just in time to see him blush before he caught himself, clearing his throat and sticking his finger in the air as he went on in his best bragging tone. “That's nothing, though. I'm also working on a neural interface that could, in theory, translate brainwaves into commands that robots can receive remotely.”

I froze in the middle of picking up the palm-sized dog and gaped at Tobey in disbelief. “Whoa… Meaning you could control your robots with just your _thoughts?_ ” I marveled.

“Mm-hmm,” Tobey mumbled with a happy nod.

“Wow, Tobey, that's amazing!”

“Isn't it, though?”

The robot turned back to puppy-size in my hands, and I laughed, remembering how different our conversations used to be, back before he knew I was WordGirl. Once it sank in that my secret was actually safe with Tobey, spending time with him became a lot more bearable. By that point I'd made it my personal mission to turn him from his villainous ways and rehabilitate him into a responsible citizen. And, to my shock, it had worked. After months of trial and error experimenting with different ways to divert his motivations away from villainy, I had finally managed to get inside his shell and figure out what the real problem was. It turned out that underneath all his selfish, destructive tendencies, he was really just… lonely.

After that, we finally started to make slow, steady progress. There were some pretty tough obstacles we had to get around, but by the time he turned thirteen, he had completely turned his life around. He wasn't exactly Prince Charming, but he'd come a long way from the little terror who used to give me grief and waste my time back in grade school.

Unfortunately, that blessed change had brought with it another problem I hadn't expected.

“What are _you_ doing here?” a familiar indignant voice huffed from across the room.

I looked, and there was my little brother, glaring at Tobey with his arms crossed. He'd been like this ever since he'd found out about Tobey's not-secret, and it was starting to get frustrating.

I cleared my throat and muttered, “Mom and Mrs. McCallister went out shopping, so—”

“I know _why_ he's here,” TJ said, cutting me off. “I asked what he's _doing_ here.”

Tobey met TJ's glare with a matching one, and squeezed a bit harder on his little computer.

 _Oh, boy_ _…_

“Uh, check it out, TJ,” I said, trying as usual to keep the peace even while I felt the tensions rising. “Tobey made a robotic dog.”

I held out the puppy for TJ to see, but he just shrugged. “Big deal,” he threw back contemptuously, “I could go buy one at the toy store for a month's worth of allowance.”

“TJ,” I grumbled under my breath. “Don't make him mad.”

“Oh, that's right, I forgot. We have to keep him calm so he won't throw a tantrum and smash the house.” TJ chuckled and rolled his eyes. “'Cause _that's_ a great way to win a girl's heart.”

Tobey balked and stuttered in his British accent, “Who said I was trying to—?”

“You don't deserve my sister!” TJ blasted out of nowhere.

“TJ,” I snapped, feeling my cheeks go hot.

Tobey fumbled for a moment, caught off guard, but shook it off fast and jumped right back into the fray. “Well, I don't know what _she_ did to deserve _you_ , but it must've been pretty terrible!”

TJ scoffed. “This coming from a villain?”

“ _Ex_ -Villain!”

“Whatever! There's no way Becky will ever fall for a lame, nerdy, 'ex-villain' like you!”

“TJ!” I shouted. I stood between him and Tobey and growled in a menacing tone, “Get out of here, or so help me, I will put you up on the roof!”

TJ shot one last frown at Tobey, then glowered off, suspiciously muttering, “I'm watching you, pal.”

Once he was gone I breathed out my frustration. These routine bouts between Tobey and my brother would be humorous if I didn't know how deeply personal they were. I could understand why TJ had reservations about me and Tobey getting close, but I also knew how much it hurt Tobey to be constantly reminded of how one-sided his affections were.

Sure enough, when I looked back at him he was staring at the floor, his face still angry, but with an unmistakeable thread of sadness running through.

“Tobey,” I said softly, reaching out a hand to him. He turned away from me and glumly meandered over to the sofa, where he sat down with his hands in his lap and his face downcast. His robot puppy jumped up beside him and whined sympathetically, nuzzling its way into his lap.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and mustered a cheerful voice. “Don't listen to TJ. He's just taking his role as an annoying, overprotective little brother a bit too seriously.”

Tobey sighed and somberly stroked the head of his creation. “It's fine,” he mumbled without the accent, glancing up at me with a despondent look on his face. “I mean… he's right, isn't he?”

My heart skipped a beat, and I bit my lip.

That was it. The unexpected problem. Everyone knew that Tobey liked me. He'd had a crush on me since I first became WordGirl, and he had never been able to hide it. The burning question was, could I ever feel that way about _him_?

In fifth grade the possibility wasn't even on the table. He was a villain back then, after all, and I was his archenemy as well as his odd choice of love interest. I couldn't even fathom why he liked me, much less consider the possibility that I could like him back. But… that was before I got to know him. Before I knew that he genuinely cared about me. Before I'd realized that I cared about him.

It would be pointless to deny that I had grown to like him, but some of the things I liked _about_ him made me uncomfortable. I liked the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn't paying attention. I liked how he would blush sometimes when I complimented him. I liked hearing him say my name, in his _real_ voice… And I didn't want to admit that those things meant—what they probably meant.

Truth be told, I didn't want to reciprocate his feelings. The idea of straying into _that_ territory quite frankly scared me. I had only known Tobey for four years, and the day we met he'd almost demolished my house in an attempt to force a confession out of me. A year later he'd gotten even worse, and had stooped to doing things like trapping me inside a giant battle mech to get me to go out with him. Things had changed a lot since then… but had they changed enough? Could I trust him with my life? Could I trust him with my _heart?_ And if I could, would that kind of relationship even work between us, considering our checkered history?

It felt weird just _thinking_ about these things. I could only imagine how awkward it would be to actually…

I forced the subject from mind when I noticed my cheeks getting warm. I knew I wouldn't be able to avoid confronting this issue forever, though. Sooner or later, something had to give, and none of the potential outcomes I could see sat quite right with me. It was starting to feel like there was no way around Tobey getting hurt, and that in and of itself hurt _me_.

Honestly, it would probably be better for both of us if we didn't see each other so darn much. It wasn't as though I was _trying_ to spend lots of time with him, but there wasn't a whole lot I could do about the fact that my mom and Mrs. McCallister were close friends. Oblivious to the complexity of my shifting relationship with Tobey, my mom had flippantly continued to set us up on so many 'play dates' that if I didn't know better, I'd think she was trying to play matchmaker between us. As though our friendship wasn't already weird enough, what with him knowing I was WordGirl and me knowing he had a crush on me the size of Chuck's… crusher.

I took a deep breath and joined him on the sofa, leaving a comfortable space between us. “Tobey, look… I—”

Just then, my super-hearing was assaulted by a powerful noise, and I gasped.

“What's wrong?” Tobey asked. His robot dog's ears perked with interest.

Bob appeared in the room holding an ice-cream sundae just in time to hear my hasty explanation. “It sounds like engines… in the upper atmosphere… A spaceship?”

Bob chirped in surprise and swallowed his dessert in one bite.

“We should go check it out,” I said. “Word—!”

“Wait!” Tobey exclaimed. He shrunk the dog into his palm and stuffed it in his pocket along with the computer that controlled it. “Can I come with you?”

I looked at him in surprise and hesitated. The first thing that came to mind was concern for his safety, but I immediately realized how silly that was. This was _Tobey_ , after all. He was picking fights and wreaking havoc long before I was around to look out for him. He could handle himself.

“Mmmm… Okay,” I reluctantly consented. “You have a battle robot on hand just in case, right?”

“Never leave home without one,” he said, patting one of his pockets.

It really was wild how much things had changed between us.

 

« ... »

 

 _Have I not commanded you? Be strong and of good courage; do not be afraid, nor be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go._ _”_

— _Joshua 1:9_

 

* * *

 

 **A warning: I do a LOT of Author's Notes. For the record, though, I don't want my readers to feel pressured in any way to read these notes. I'm just a long-winded blabbermouth who has decided not to stifle myself because I have been informed that, for whatever strange and miraculous reason, some people actually** _**enjoy** _ **reading my platitudinous prattling. :)**

 

**Author's Notes:**

**-** _**1** _ _**st** _ _**Person** _ _**—** _ **Some of you may have noticed that I wrote this story in 1** **st** **person. If you've read the prequel fic, you may be wondering why I chose to do this story in 1** **st** **person when Saving Tobey was written in 3** **rd** **person. The explanation is actually part of a much larger story that I plan to share later, lest I scare everyone away with a crop of author's notes as long as the chapter itself.**

 **-** _**To Accent or Not to Accent** _ **— Let me just start by saying that I** _**adore** _ **Tobey's voice quirk, but it does create an annoyance for fanfiction authors in that we must make a note in the prose whenever Tobey changes how he's talking. Normally you have to specify when he's talking in his real voice since in the show he usually talks in his fake accent, but in this fic it's actually the reverse. For story reasons, he will rarely use his false accent in this piece, so unless I specifically mention that he's switched to British, you can usually just assume he's talking normally. :) If you're like I used to be and you have a hard time getting the sound of Tobey's real voice in your head because we hear it so little in the show, I suggest listening to some clips of other voice roles Patton Oswalt has done, like Remy from Ratatouille, or the male version of Jesse from Minecraft: Story Mode (who sounds to me just like an older version of Tobey, which is perfect). ;)**

 **-** _**“'Sup?”—** _ **In case anyone thinks this is an OOC thing for Tobey to say, I wanted to mention that I actually took it straight from the canon. :P In 'Tobey or Consequences' the first thing Tobey says to WordGirl when she shows up to fight him is** **“Heeeeey… 'Sup?” I always thought that part was borderline OOC in the best possible way. :3**

 **-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“Because You Live” by Jesse McCartney—** _ **Those of you who have read** _**Saving Tobey** _ **will probably get how this song fits Tobey without me needing to explain. ;) For you new readers, think of it as an emotional a recap in musical form. ^-^ The song explains how Tobey's feelings for Becky/WordGirl have changed, and** _**not** _ **changed, over the course of the past two years. At this point he no longer simply likes her for some esoteric reason. Now he is indebted to her for rescuing him from a dark and hopeless future, and his feelings for her have only deepened as a result. I love how at the end of the song, even though there's nothing sad or depressing in the lyrics themselves, the song fades out on the same somber, wistful note that it started on. It's like it's telling the story of Tobey's relationship with Becky and how it came around full circle. At first it was sad because it was this hopeless one-sided crush that Tobey was too young and clueless to realize was doomed to go nowhere. Later, after Becky decided to help him and gradually grew to care for him, their blossoming friendship grew into something a lot more happy and hopeful. But now that Tobey has matured enough to realize just how much he loves her and just how unlikely it is that she will ever reciprocate, the relationship has become sad and painful again** **—painful, but nonetheless beautiful. T-T**

 **-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“Wait for Me” by Rebecca St. James—** _ **This song is about waiting to meet the person you're going to fall in love with, but I'm stretching my interpretation to allow for a beautiful representation of what's happening emotionally on** _**Becky's** _ **side. She's starting to see Tobey differently, but she's not ready to accept that, and so she resists and represses her growing affections for him. I see this song as sort of her subconscious wish as she struggles through this process** **… her hope that he won't give up on her… that he will cling to his feelings for her until she can return them. :3**


	2. Portent

_**Hey, readers! This chapter references the episode 'WordGirl Makes a Mistake.'** _

 

**Foreword:**

**All right! Now that the sappy, recappy introduction chapter is out of the way, on to the actual story! XD (** **…kidding… kinda :P)**

 

* * *

 

Portent [ **pohr** -tent] – an indication or omen of something about to happen, especially something momentous.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

I set Tobey and Huggy down in a clearing somewhere in the forest and looked curiously up at the clouds.

“The noise is directly above us,” I said.

Huggy shrieked in warning and pointed to the sky. Sure enough, a tiny red dot had appeared in the clouds, growing larger as it drew closer.

Tobey touched my arm and said, “We should get out of sight, just in case.”

I nodded, and the three of us ducked behind a rock the size of a school bus. The flora all around us thrashed violently in the wind generated by the blasting engines. The roar of them became almost deafening as the ship approached the ground, and I threw my hands over my ears. This was one of those situations where super-hearing was a curse rather than a blessing. Finally the noise subsided as the ship touched down, and I glanced to Huggy with a nod. He nodded back. Behind him, Tobey had already pulled his computer and a compacted robot from one of his pockets.

I took a nervous breath, and quietly levitated up until I could just see the ship over the top of the rock. I gasped.

“Oh, my—! It's a Lexiconian ship!”

“A what?” Tobey exclaimed. Huggy shrieked in surprise. They both ran out from behind the rock to see for themselves.

The ship wasn't all that similar to mine. It was a lot smaller and had a sleek boomerang-shaped design. But there could be no mistake about the bright yellow insignia emblazoned on the red hull—the trademark of the Lexiconian people.

“No way,” I heard Tobey whisper amidst the lulling of the ship's engines. He sounded deeply perturbed.

Before anyone could say anything else, the groaning of metal sounded from behind the ship. I gestured silently, then gathered everyone up and discreetly whisked them around to the other side of the clearing. We watched from the shadows as a massive hatch door on the back of the ship began to lower open. We waited nervously during the tense few minutes it took for the hatch to reach the ground. Finally it reached the ground, acting as a ramp leading into the ship—unnecessarily, however, for the person who appeared from inside was levitating. He was wearing a costume similar to mine, with decorative shoulder fins instead of a cape, but the same star emblem on the chest. He had a kindly, handsome face and looked about the same age as my dad, though much more actively built. His short blonde hair poked about his head in a state of peaceful anarchy, somehow looking both purposefully styled and playfully disheveled.

I was dumbstruck in my surprise. A Lexiconian ship... a Lexiconian _man_... It probably shouldn't have been all that shocking to me, and yet it was. So much so that I didn't know how to react. I unconsciously floated toward the newcomer, captivated by my curiosity.

“Becky, wait,” Tobey called out, and I could hear both him and Huggy rushing after me. The Lexiconian man had already caught sight of me, though, and before I had the chance to ask who he was, his eyes widened and he smiled at me.

“Oh... It's you!” he joyously exclaimed. “You came to meet us. Does this mean that… you heard us coming?”

“Um, yes…” I muttered, still pretty stunned.

My companions arrived at my side, and Tobey assumed a stiff posture as he eyed the new arrival.

The man gave a muted laugh, beaming as though in awe. “Then it's true! And you're in perfect health, too. Amazing.” He bowed respectfully, still glowing with excitement. “It's a pleasure to meet you. I am—”

“Who are _you_?” Tobey cut in, using his false accent. I could tell he hadn't meant to sound _quite_ so rude. He'd interrupted, sure enough, but it was a simple matter of irony that he'd done so right as the man began to introduce himself.

The new arrival gave Tobey a suffering look and cleared his throat. “I am Captain Darix, ambassador to Earth for the Lexiconian space fleet.”

Huggy squeaked in confusion, tapping my arm.

My instincts kicked in, breaking through my astonishment at what was happening, and I turned to him and explained, “An ambassador is a person chosen to officially represent one group of people to another. So when he says he's the ambassador for Lexicon to Earth, he means that the people of Lexicon appointed him to show who they are and what they want to the people of Earth.”

Captain Darix chuckled and warmly said, “Even after spending most of your life on another planet, you haven't forgotten your heritage. Although, in this case, I'm not here to speak to the people of Earth.”

“So why _are_ you here, _ambassador?_ ” Tobey asked. His tone reminded me of ones I'd heard years ago when he was a villain—accusatory and disdainful.

“I'm here to speak to _you_ , young lady,” said the captain, meeting my eyes with a smile that warmed my heart. “We've been trying to find you for a long time.”

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

Darix's ship remained in the spot where it had landed, surrounded by unfortunate forestation that had yet to completely settle after the tornado-like thrashing of just a few minutes ago. Its captain was already one of the most delightful people I'd ever met. Even though he appeared a seasoned adult he practically glowed with youthful enthusiasm, articulating and gesticulating in playful rhythm as he told a Lexiconian joke that appealed to my sensibilities better than any I'd ever heard on Earth. He looked eager to see my reaction as he happily delivered the punch line, “So the linguist says to the writer, 'There's nothing wrong with your verbiage, but you still seem a little tense.'”

I laughed so hard that I snorted, then clamped my hand over my mouth, flushing with shame. So much for my recent hope of making a graceful impression on this engaging visitor from my homeworld. I hadn't noticed that awkward habit of mine much when I was younger, but once I started high school and the other girls began making fun of me, I quickly became self-conscious about it. By now it was practically a complex.

I drifted to the ground like a waning helium balloon and sank into the shadow of the ship where my companions stood.

“I'm sorry,” I muttered in a small voice. “My laugh sounds terrible.”

“Your laugh?” Darix asked, landing on the ground as I had, though with a bit more poise.

Huggy waddled up beside me as I managed a sheepish nod, hands still covering my mouth. The captain just smiled and leaned forward, still standing a few paces away.

“WordGirl,” he said soothingly, “If the people of this planet have made you feel insecure about any quality you have, they do not deserve you.”

I lowered my hands, encouraged by his kindness and surprised by his lambency. I had never met someone who was so good with words before. “Wow… Thank you, Captain Darix.”

“Please,” he chuckled with a slight shake of his head, “there's no need for formality. Call me Darix.”

“O-Okay,” I muttered, still feeling warm in the face.

Tobey stepped forward and loudly cleared his throat.

“Oh right.” I'd almost forgotten he was there. “Darix, this is my friend, Theodore Mc—”

“ _Tobey_ will suffice,” he cut me off in his false accent, giving Darix an unwelcoming look.

“A pleasure to meet you,” Darix said with a smile and a slight nod. “You're human, I take it?”

Tobey crossed his arms and snidely muttered, “What gave me away?”

“Tobey,” I muttered, frowning at him. “Don't be rude.”

Why was he acting this way? He couldn't possibly have a problem with Captain Darix already, could he? We just met him, after all.

Darix gave a personable laugh that starkly contrasted Tobey's scowl and casually said, “Tell me, Tobey. How long have you and WordGirl known each other?”

“We met a few years ago,” I inserted quickly, trying to spare Tobey the awkwardness of having to explain that we'd spent the first two years of our friendship as enemies. I went on to say, “Tobey is a technological prodigy here on Earth.”

“Ah, yes,” Darix said with a nod. “A person who excels in a particular field or subject far beyond the level most people are capable of achieving. In other words, a genius.”

He gave Tobey an impressed look, which Tobey returned with cold silence and a neutral stare. Strange… It wasn't like Tobey to ignore a compliment. Huggy raised a curious eyebrow at him.

“So, how are things on Lexicon?” I asked, trying to dispel the awkwardness that I was beginning to sense in the atmosphere.

Darix darkened. His eyes drifted downward, and he looked sad for the first time I'd seen. “Well, it's… been better, I'm afraid.”

“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that,” I said, feeling suddenly curious and a little guilty.

“No, no. Don't be sorry,” Darix said, his mirth returning. “I want to hear about _you_. It's not every day you get to meet a child who was stranded for years on an alien planet.”

“Stranded?” Tobey sniped, “Don't you mean, 'abandoned'?”

I nearly gasped and turned sharply to Tobey. Darix and Huggy had done the same, each wearing a look of aghast surprise.

“Certainly not!” Darix exclaimed, sounding taken aback, but not angry. “Abandon means to _purposely_ leave something or someone behind. The disappearance of a child is a _tragedy_ on Lexicon.” He paused and trailed off for a moment, regarding the floor with a crestfallen expression. “Unfortunately, it _is_ rather common. It's probably the worst, yet most unavoidable shortcoming of a race whose people are capable of space travel almost from infancy. We simply don't have the resources to put as much effort as we'd like into finding all of them.”

Tobey raised a skeptical eyebrow but said nothing more. I had more than half a mind to scold him right then and there for his insensitivity, but Darix turned back to me before I had the chance, the welcoming glow returning to his face.

“So, how did you manage it?” he asked, his smile sparkling with interest. “You must have been tremendously clever to not only survive here but also adjust, blend in with the locals, _and_ become famous.”

I beamed, forgetting my earlier annoyance. “Oh, well, it wasn't really that impressive on my part. I probably wouldn't have made it if it weren't for Captain Huggyface, here.”

It was about time I'd introduced Huggy, I realized with yet another flush of embarrassment. Darix's disarming presence—not to mention everything about this whole situation—had me so discombobulated that I could barely think straight. My sidekick had been uncharacteristically gracious to wait this long for an introduction without saying anything. Perhaps he was just as taken aback by what was happening as _I_ was.

Huggy smiled and gave a dismissive wave in response to my compliment. Darix turned to him and said warmly, “Well, on behalf of a fellow captain as well as the whole of the Lexiconian people, I thank you heartily for looking after this amazing young lady.”

At that, Huggy and I _both_ beamed. I averted my eyes, embarrassed by how happy I must look. Darix was just so… _nice_. So gracious, so sophisticated. I couldn't imagine why Tobey didn't seem to like him. I pretended to cough and halfheartedly argued, “I don't know if 'amazing' is the right word.”

“My dear girl, I am a Lexiconian,” Darix retorted in a facetiously offended tone. “I take great care to _always_ choose the right word.”

He once more flashed his winning smile, and I lost all will to contradict him.

Out of nowhere, Tobey stepped between Darix and me, facing the captain with fists clenched, and rudely blasted, “Enough of this piffle! Why are you _really_ here?”

Huggy chirped in astonishment, Darix's smile vanished, and I could have fainted from my horror.

“Tobey!”

“No, no, it's fine,” Darix said, waving off my concern. He looked, to my surprise, almost _guilty_. “He's right, actually. I'm afraid I _do_ have an ulterior motive for seeking you out.”

I blinked in surprise, while Tobey once more crossed his arms and kept his distrusting eyes fastened on the other Lexiconian.

The spark drained from Darix completely, and his voice betrayed a heavy heart as he hesitantly explained. “WordGirl… I must ask you to come back with me to Lexicon.”

 

« ... »

 

_Do not boast about tomorrow, for you do not know what a day may bring forth._

— _Proverbs 27:1_

 

* * *

 

**Author's Notes:**

**-** _**Oh, like you didn't see THIS coming** _ _**—** _ **I'm scared to wonder how far I am down the list of authors who have played with the idea of Becky returning to Lexicon. #_# I'll be the first to admit that this concept is hardly original, but I've always believed that quality trumps originality, and just because something has been done a million times before doesn't mean it should never be done again. Actually, I've noticed a trend with my fanfiction to follow this sentiment. I have a tendency take on ideas that a fandom has had for years and try to breathe new life into them by way of my own personal touch, and I've been told in the past that I do this pretty well. Who says a new dog can't learn old tricks, right? :P I hope my readers for this story will find that, while I may be using one of the oldest tricks in the book, some of the things I do with it may yet surprise. ;)**

 **-** _**WriterGirl Makes A Mistake** _ _**—** _ **It hit me a little too late that I was writing a fanfic dealing with WordGirl's past connection to Lexicon and I have never seen the episode in the series that actually goes into that. *-* The episode 'WordGirl Makes A Mistake' has proven troublesomely elusive for me. My brother was able to track down the script, and he told me he didn't think the episode was all that great. Still, I wish I'd been able to actually see it** **… Does anyone reading know where I can find it? In the meantime, I humbly beg your pardon on anything I do in this story that is in conflict with history established in that episode. I tried to stick reasonably close to what my brother told me about the script he read, but I didn't stress much about honoring every little canon detail. I wrote this for my brother, not PBS. As such, I intentionally gave his headcanon priority over the** _**actual** _ **canon where Lexicon and/or WordGirl's backstory is concerned.**

 **-** _**Darix's Joke** _ _**—** _ **Don't worry if you didn't get it. I was purposely trying to come up with something that only a Lexiconian would laugh at** **—hence the unfunny 'dictionary humor.' Plus, I only wrote the end of the joke, so you wouldn't be able to understand the punch line even in the joke** _**was** _ **funny. :}**

 **-** _**Portent** _ _**—** _ **The chapter title word actually has three meanings, and the other two are each fitting in their own way as well. One is 'threatening or disquieting significance,' and the other is, 'a prodigy or marvel.' ;)**

 **-** _**The Story Behind the Story** _ _**—** _ **Okay, time for me to come clean about what really got me started on the current leg of my fanfiction journey. If you plan on reading this, get comfortable, 'cause its a looooong story.**

**…**

**Comfortable? All right, here we go.**

**Those of you who have read** _**Saving Tobey** _ **(or at least taken a look at its word count or original publication date) will, I suspect, be a bit surprised to learn that the opening chapter of** _**Time to Go Home** _ **was actually the first piece of WordGirl fanfiction I ever wrote. Honest!**

 **It all started back around the autumn of 2015 when my little sister had a sudden fit of nostalgia and started looking up old episodes of WordGirl that we had never seen before. She and my little brother got super into it, then dragged** _**me** _ **back into it, and the next thing I knew we were all huddled together brainstorming things that could happen after the end of the series. Tobey was always my favorite, so the first story arc we came up with was the headcanon for his reform that eventually turned into** _**Saving Tobey** _ **.**

 **BUT! Before I ever had any inclination to actually** _**write** _ **any of this stuff, my brother got up one morning and happily informed my sister and I that he'd had an '** _**awesome** _ **WordGirl dream.' Well, hearing about that dream (which was, indeed, awesome) led to talking about it, and talking about it led to expanding on it, and a few days later I was feeling so inspired that I wanted to write down the story that my brother had** **—quite literally—dreamed up. Then I had the dangerous idea to write it for him as a Christmas present. Why was this a dangerous idea, you ask? Well, because Christmas was just a month away at that point. O.O**

_**What the heck,** _ **I thought,** _**I'll give it a try.** _ **I was in a dangerous mood, I suppose. X( So I pulled out all the stops. I decided to write in 1** **st** **person because that viewpoint is easier for me to crank out quickly (told ya I'd explain that ;P). I hid in the bathroom to write without my brother knowing. I started waking up super-early so I could write before he woke up. I dedicated almost** _**all** _ **of my free time for the rest of the year into writing the fanfic that you are reading right now.**

 **The story kicked my butt for that entire month, but I pulled it off** **… well,** _**almost** _ **pulled it off. I had to give my brother an incomplete copy for Christmas, but I finished it over the course of the next couple weeks. Then, as I started thinking about publishing it online and wondering what people would think of it, I realized that it hinged a** _**lot** _ **on the headcanon we'd come up with previously for how Tobey would abandon villainy and reform. Then I had another dangerous idea:** _**I'll write the prequel story, publish that, and THEN publish Time to Go Home!** _

**I don't have to tell you all how** _**that** _ **turned out. :P Suffice it to say, the WordGirl fandom kind of hijacked my life a year ago and has yet to hand back the reins. The good news for you readers, though, is that this story is already basically written, which means I should be able to keep to my schedule of one chapter every Friday flawlessly! There are some things I want to tweak and improve** **… you know, since I blazed through the first draft in six weeks and naturally that meant a few weak dialogues and lame plot choices. However, I'd have to be pretty lame to let those minor revisions cause me to fall behind in my posting schedule.**

**… Of course, now that I've said that, something's probably gonna happen in my life that sucks up all my writing time right at a critical point when I need to add some last-minute super-important scene to the next chapter. God likes to tease me that way. :}**


	3. Hortatory

**Foreword:**

**Fun fact about me: I have a really weak visual imagination. *-* It's hard for me to get an image in my head of something (or someone) I haven't seen frequently before. Thus I often have a hard time getting a solid image in my head for characters from novels if I don't have a picture or two, and this is probably also why I gravitate more towards writing fanfiction than original fiction (even my** _**own** _ **characters are hard for me to picture! DX). Darix is the first OC I've created for the WordGirl fandom, and he was no exception to this frustrating quirk of mine. Thankfully my brother had a very strong image of his own for Darix, and I was more than happy to let his vision accommodate for my** **… lack of vision. :P He wasn't able to draw me a picture of Darix the way my sister might have been able to, but he showed me a picture of a particular LEGO hair piece for reference. :P**

 

* * *

  
Hortatory [ **hawr** -t _uh_ -tawr-ee] – urging to some course of conduct or action; exhorting; encouraging.

  

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

I knew it.

Of course they were here to take her away. Why else would they come _now_ , looking for her specifically, after she'd already been on Earth for most of her life? They must want her for some reason, I was _sure_ of it. Well, they were going to have to go through _me_ first.

Arms still crossed distrustfully, I looked over to Becky to see how she'd take the revelation. As expected, her face was awash with shock. She was slow on the uptake, but I couldn't really blame her. She'd never even met another Lexiconian, so naturally she'd be too excited to properly analyze the situation—especially since this 'Darix' guy was such a smooth talker.

“You want me to… what?” she said at last.

“I understand this must come as a shock to you,” Darix said, “but... it's time for you to go home.”

My anger was stirred at his impertinence, and I took it as license to cast off more of my own restraint. “And you're _just_ realizing this, after she's been missing for what, _ten_ years? You don't bother sending anyone after your precious lost children until they've been missing for a _decade?_ You don't think maybe by then they might've found a better home than the one that _abandoned_ them?”

I was satisfied to see that Darix had no answer for this challenge. He just stood there and regarded me with a surprised, despondent look, like I'd hurt his feelings.

“Tobey!” Becky snapped, shooting me a warning glance and then turning back to Darix. “My friend is _way_ out of line, but he's right about one thing: I _am_ home. I was born on Lexicon, but I belong here on Earth. I have a life, a family, people who depend on me… I could never just leave them, and quite frankly, I'd never want to.”

I smiled and stuck my tongue out at Darix while Becky was looking at him and not me. She wasn't being as frank as _I_ would've been, but at least she was putting her foot down. I couldn't wait to send this imbecile packing.

Darix shot me a brief, mild glare, then immediately turned his attention back to Becky. His voice deepened in desperation when he added, “Please, let me explain. Our planet needs your help.”

“My help?” Becky said. “How?”

“The Lexiconian people are being ravaged by a virulent disease,” he said.

Becky's face fell, and my heart sank. That changed everything.

“Wait a minute,” I said, “How could bringing her back to your planet do any good for your people? If anything, wouldn't it just put _her_ in danger?”

“I promise you I would never do anything to put her in danger,” Darix said, placing a hand over his chest.

“Excuse me, Ambassador,” I said matter-of-factly, “but I don't believe you know the definition of the word 'danger.' Please allow me. _Danger_ is a situation that involves significant risk or lack of safety, such as going with a man you just met to a planet where a virulent—which, by the way, means 'deadly'—disease is ravaging the population.”

He then eyed me with irk and said, “I understand what _both_ of those words mean, thank you. Now, if you would please let me finish.”

“Tobey.” Becky grasped my arm and gave me a serious look—but not serious in an _angry_ way—more like serious in a _sad_ way. I inhaled sharply in frustration and bit my tongue.

“WordGirl,” Darix went on, “you have the ability to hear sounds from incredible distances, correct? That was how you knew we were coming before our ship landed?”

“Yeah,” Becky said, “That's my super-hearing.”

I rolled my eyes. Was this clown ever going to explain why any of this meant she had to leave Earth?

“Would you be surprised to learn that not all Lexiconians have this ability?”

Becky perked with interest. “They don't?”

Darix shook his head. “It's a special ability, granted to only a few Lexiconians by way of an extremely rare birth defect.”

“Birth defect?” I said with a roll of my eyes. “I'd hardly call an extra superpower a 'defect.'”

Bob made a questioning squawk, raising his arms in confusion. Becky, of course, _had_ to define the word for him, even at a time like this.

“A defect is a flaw or imperfection. It's when something is wrong or not quite the way it's supposed to be. Like when one of Tobey's robots comes out looking a bit different than all the others by mistake. That's a defect.”

“Wonderful. Could we move this along, please?” I said impatiently.

Darix lifted a cross eyebrow at me and continued. “The 'extra superpower' is a side effect of the defective gene. Lexiconians born with it have fragile constitutions and don't usually live past ten years old.”

“But Be—I mean, WordGirl isn't fragile at all, and she's fourteen!”

“Exactly!” Darix pointed at me for emphasis. “She's the only example ever found of a Lexiconian who has thrived in spite of this ailment, which means that her genetic structure is exceptionally strong.” Here he turned to Becky and continued. “Therefore _you_ are the key to curing our people. Because, you see, through some ironic twist of fate, the disease that plagues my people—called the Logorrhea virus—has no effect on those who possess this birth defect. They are immune.”

I gave a condescending snort. “Well, _that_ explains why she's suddenly so Important to you. It's not because her disappearance was such a tragedy, it's because you _want_ something from her.”

Darix frowned sharply and answered gravely. “Wrong. We don't _want_ her. We _need_ her. People on our planet are dying by the thousands, and while I'm not sure why you consider that an ignoble motivation, yes, that reason _did_ lend urgency to finding her. And, in case it's at all relevant, we _have_ been looking for her. We simply weren't able to find any leads until a few months ago.”

I hesitated for a moment, grimacing in frustration. I couldn't really argue against his point, but I certainly couldn't _accept_ it. That would mean…

I grit my teeth and shook my head, rekindling my anger. A bit of the desperation I'd heard earlier in the ambassador's voice now echoed in mine. “Still, why don't you just find some other child on Lexicon who has it and use _them_ to find a cure?”

Darix shot me a withering scowl and sarcastically retorted, “Because I'm a conniving, unreasonable troublemaker who enjoys tearing children away from their homes and families. Why don't _you_ just admit that the only reason you're so against me is that I'm coming between you and your dulcinea?”

Again I fell silent, flustered and annoyed that he had gone and used a word I didn't know. Somehow that felt like cheating. Reluctantly, I turned to Becky with a questioning look. To my surprise, she just blushed and flat-out neglected to offer a definition, which made me feel even _more_ awkward and curious.

Darix heaved a somber sigh, and his tone softened. “I apologize for my scurrilousness. I can see that I'm presenting you all with a painful request and I'm sorry for that, I really am… If there were any alternative I assure you I would take it in a heartbeat. Regrettably, it _must_ be WordGirl. I've already told you why.”

Becky gasped, her eyes widening in realization.

“Yes,” Darix affirmed, as though he'd read her mind. “In many ways, the physical drain that comes with the birth defect is worse than the illness that besieges us… but your condition is unique. I suspect it may be in part because of your time spent on Earth—perhaps the exposure to the oxygen in the atmosphere. Whatever the reason… you alone possess the power to save our people. Do you understand?”

Becky's face paled, and she stood motionless for a moment. She understood perfectly… and so did I.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

Becky was quiet during the short, somber flight back to her house. By the time we arrived and she set the monkey and I down on her living room floor, I could no longer wait for her to say something. The last thing she'd said to Darix was too scary for me to leave alone for long.

“You're not seriously going back, are you?” I demanded, clenching my hands into fists.

“I said I'd _think_ about it,” she said, changing back to her normal clothes in a flash of light.

“What's there to think about? You don't owe those people anything!”

That still, small voice that Becky had taught me to listen to started telling me that I was crossing a line, but I ignored it. I couldn't believe this was happening—that a stranger could just drop down out of the sky and take her away from me. I wasn't going to stand for it!

Becky looked straight at me, frowning slightly. “It's not about owing them, Tobey. They need my help.”

“So what? It's not your problem! Why should you have to give up your whole life here because _they_ need help?”

Becky's sorrowful face lit up with anger. Her hands clenched into loose, trembling fists. “It's not that simple, and you know it! Don't be selfish!”

She got my tongue with that one. Selfish? Was I being selfish? I hadn't _thought_ I was, but honestly, I was so wroth with emotion that I couldn't tell. Would she really leave me, and her family, and everyone else who depended on her, to help a bunch of strangers? Were we all supposed to just let her go and move on? Was I supposed to just… forget about her?

Without even playing through the scenario in my head, I knew that was something I could never do. She was _everything_ to me. I had accepted by now that she would never reciprocate my feelings, but I couldn't even imagine my life if she were gone altogether. My heart ached just thinking about what that would be like. It made the pain of her rejection seem like bliss by comparison.

My heart burned so strong within me that my better judgment melted away. Having nowhere else to vent my grief and anger at the prospect of losing Becky, I frowned right back at her, about to say something I'd almost certainly regret.

“Hey, kids!” Mrs. Botsford frolicked through the front door like a bad omen in disguise, laden with shopping bags and infuriating cheerfulness. “Sorry, no time for the usual pleasantries. Claire is late for an appointment, so Tobey has to get going right away. Ooh! I can't wait to try out my new bunny-shaped waffle iron!”

She pranced off to the kitchen, oblivious as usual, and hummed happily to herself as she began unbagging and unboxing.

With a dejected sigh, Becky turned her eyes away from me and morosely murmured, “You'd better not keep your mom waiting.”

I took a deep breath, struggling in vain to bundle up my wild emotions, and left without saying another word.

 

« ... »

 

_Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things._

— _Colossians 3:2_

 

* * *

 

**Author's Notes:**

**-** _**Rated 'T'** _ _**—** _ **It should be obvious by now to my returning readers that** _**Time to Go** _ **Home is going for a completely different tone from my previous WordGirl fanfiction. My brother told me he wanted the story to have a solemn feel, faithful to the feel of the dream that inspired it, and my vision fell in line with that sentiment perfectly. :) So, while I also want to stay true to the humorous, whimsical feel of the original cartoon as much as I can, I am definitely aiming for a more serious story with more mature themes** **—and mind you that when I say 'mature,' I** _**mean** _ **'mature,' not 'sexy,' 'scary,' or whatever else some people mean when they say 'mature.' The characters are teenagers now, and I want to explore teenage problems, while also playing around with themes and struggles that the show wouldn't have dared to touch on, geared as it was toward such a young audience. Rest assured, though, that I greatly value the innocence of WordGirl and I intend to respect it. I may not confine the story to a K+ rating as I did with** _**Saving Tobey** _ **, but I'm not going to turn it into an edgy teen drama either.**

 **-** _**Just so we're all on the same page** _ _**… —** _ **I already mentioned how I'm prioritizing my brother's backstory headcanon over the actual canon since the actual canon is really fuzzy on a lot of details anyway, but I do want to make sure it's clear what part of the canon I'm actually sticking to. This is a quote from Becky's article on the WordGirl wiki, which my headcanon is more-or-less based on:** _**“She was born on the planet Lexicon, and as an infant accidentally wandered onto a spaceship, which was piloted by Captain Huggyface. While he was driving the spaceship, WordGirl woke and startled him, making them hit an asteroid and forcing him to crash land on Earth in order to save the both of them. However, neither of them have tried to return to Lexicon since.”** _ **My bro and I both think it's kind of silly that a toddler was able to get on a spaceship without anyone knowing, but it is WordGirl, after all.**

 **-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“Dismantle. Repair.” by Anberlin—** _ **This one is about Tobey's inner storm right now. Not all the words fit, and sometimes they fit in a really abstract way. I imagine such desperate and powerful feelings do tend to be pretty abstract, though.**

 **-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“Part of It” by Relient K** _ **— This is the unselfish perspective that Tobey is sort of trying to seize hold of in the midst of his heartbreak** **… though I don't think he really succeeds. :( The bridge doesn't quite fit, but the line 'I could tear that place apart' definitely reminds me of how Tobey has tended to handle his frustrations—in the past, at least.**


	4. Whipsaw

**Foreword:**

**If I'm remembering right, I wrote this whole chapter in basically one sitting. Hopefully it's not too obvious. I'm no Brandon Sanderson. *sweats* (only like, 2 of you know what I'm talking about, but whatever :P)**

**Oh, and in case anyone's actually keeping track, I'm sorry I missed two weeks of scheduled updates. My brother got married, and the wedding drove pretty much everything to the back burner for a while. ^^'**

 

* * *

 

Whipsaw [ **hwip** -saw] – to subject to two opposing forces at the same time.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

The slam of the door as Tobey left stung more than I'd expected it to. It wasn't as though this type of behavior was unusual for him, even after his nigh miraculous reform. He had learned some humility, but he still had an ego. He had developed some consideration for others, but he still had a hard time seeing past his own desires. He had achieved some self-control, but he still got angry easily, and I couldn't blame him for being angry about this.

It wasn't as though I didn't understand how he felt. I just wished he cared more about how _I_ felt. This was painful for me, too! I was struggling to get my head around the fact that I had to choose between staying with everyone I loved and saving countless innocent lives. Why did Tobey have to make it harder by acting like it was an easy decision… and by reminding me how much I'd hurt him if I decided to leave?

Darix had made it clear that doing the necessary research from Earth was not possible, and that there was no telling how long it would take. If I was to save the people of Lexicon, I would have to go there, and I might never be able to come back. The idea was so horrifying I could scream, and it was taking more willpower than I knew I had just to keep myself composed. Why couldn't Tobey see that?

Bob came up beside me and placed a comforting hand on my arm, having changed out of his superhero costume. I looked down at his sympathetic eyes, and my spirits lifted a bit. I wiped away the traces of tears that had collected in my eyes and was able to summon a mostly genuine smile.

“It's all right, Bob,” I said, stroking the adorable tuft of fur on top of his head. “I'll be okay.”

“Oh, I almost forgot,” my mom said, poking her head out from the kitchen. “Todd and Violet are coming over for dinner tonight. She's helping him write an article on how the DA's office prosecutes criminals who have superpowers. Isn't that neat? They'll be here in a couple of hours, so look alive!”

She vanished back into the kitchen, and I heaved a somber sigh. Mom was the queen of bad timing today.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

“So what you're saying is that the nature of a criminal's superpower actually _can_ impact the prescribed sentence for their crime?”

Scoops had a pencil in one hand and a fork in the other, with his plate and notepad situated accordingly on the table In front of him. He carefully timed each bite of his bunny-shaped waffle so that while my mother answered his questions he could chew and take notes at the same time.

Mom's tongue stuck out in concentration as she worked meticulously on creating a two-toned coat for her rabbit out of peanut butter and chocolate sauce.

“Mm-hmm,” she muttered in response to Scoops' question, “but that's only in cases where the power in question would prevent the prescribed sentence from serving as an effective deterrent.”

“Fascinating,” Scoops muttered with his mouth full, excitedly scribbling away.

It was amazing how some things never changed. While there were times I could hardly recognize Tobey as the boy I'd known in fifth grade, Scoops was still the same excitable, dedicated reporter he'd always been. His determination and go-getter attitude had pushed him a grade ahead in school, and he was already planning for his future degree in journalism. He'd asked Violet to be his girlfriend just a few weeks ago, and she had later confided in me, blushing and smiling, that it was the first and only time she'd ever heard him stutter.

As for Violet, pretty much all that had changed about her was her appearance, and that only slightly. Her wardrobe still consisted of the same simple, charming dress style that she had favored four years ago, though she'd grown her straw-blond hair longer over the summer and now she wore it with the sides tied together in the back while the rest of it hung free. She still saw the beauty and wonder in the smallest of everyday things. She still glowed with childlike innocence everywhere she went. I envied her for so many reasons, and I wouldn't change a thing about her if I could.

Dad looked over at her as though reading my thoughts and asked in his usual jovial tone, “What are you waiting for, Violet. Dig in before it gets cold.”

“I don't know if I can, Mr. Botsford,” Violet murmured. She stared down at the waffle on her plate, decorated with whipped cream fur and chocolate chip eyes, and her expression melted into a mesmerized smile. “It's just so adorable…”

“You should name it,” TJ suggested. “I'm calling mine Tobey.”

The little minx donned a sinister grin and squirted a messy splatter of strawberry sauce across what was left of his rabbit's body. Dad glanced over at TJ's plate and innocently commented, “Oh, how cute. You even drew glasses on him.”

I heaved a despondent sigh and stared down at my untouched dinner-breakfast, too preoccupied to get mad at TJ. In light of the weighty decision looming over me, it was both heartwarming and heartbreaking to watch Mom and Dad, Scoops and Violet, and even my annoying little brother as they sat around the table happily being themselves. I thought about how, while I was sitting here enjoying the company of _my_ loved ones, people on Lexicon were grieving for the loss of theirs. Families and friends who cared for one another just as much as I cared for the people in this room—were dying. Meanwhile, the one person in the galaxy who could do something about it was sitting at home eating waffles.

“Becky, is everything okay?” Dad asked, once again reading my mind. “You haven't touched your food, either.”

Mom asked in a low voice, as though everyone in the house didn't already know about my alter ego, “Is it a WordGirl thing?”

 _Sort of_ _…_ “No, not at all. Everything's fine on the superhero front.”

I felt a pang of guilt at lying to them after my two-year streak of being completely honest, but I couldn't tell them what was going on. Not until I'd made my decision.

“Did something happen with Tobey?” Violet asked.

It was a good thing I didn't have food in my mouth, because I probably would've choked on it right then. I'd forgotten the one other thing that had changed about Violet in recent years: she'd become a lot more perceptive, and she always seemed to pick up on the things I most wanted to hide. It was a miracle she hadn't figured out by now that I used to have a crush on her boyfriend.

“What makes you think something happened with Tobey?” I muttered, trying to sound like I had no idea what she was talking about. She was only half right, but even that half was way more than I cared to discuss.

Violet and Scoops glanced at each other, giving me the impression they could see right through me, and Scoops gingerly said, “I was listening to the news right before we got here. Supposedly an abandoned oil rig a few miles out of town was destroyed by what the only eyewitness described as a… giant robot.”

I cringed and fought off the urge to sigh in frustration. Under any other circumstances I'd probably be mad at Tobey, but instead I found myself worrying about him. Apparently,  he and I had both broken our two-year streaks on the same day.

“Did you two have a fight?” Mom asked.

“No,” I said too quickly. “We're fine. Tobey's fine. Everything's completely okay.”

I forced a weak laugh and dug into my cold waffle. Uncertain glances circulated around the table, and I could practically hear Tobey's condescending voice in my head reminding me what a lousy liar I was.

If only they didn't all care about me so much! It would be so much easier to hide my feelings and do my duty for the people of my home planet if I didn't have to leave behind such wonderful…

I felt tears coming on, and I rose quickly from my seat. I had to get out of here quick if I didn't want the whole awful truth to come pouring out.

“I need some fresh air! Dinner was great, Mom. Leave the dishes for me to do later, okay?”

I took to the air and zipped off before anyone could protest.

 

« ... »

 

_I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life..._

— _Deuteronomy 30:_ _19_

 

* * *

 

**Author's Notes:**

**-** _**What's the Scoop?** _ _**—** _ **Okay, I can't seem to remember an episode where Mrs. Botsford addresses Scoops, so I wasn't sure whether she would call him 'Scoops' like his friends do or use his given name 'Todd.' I went with Todd since she _is_ an ** **adult, but since she's a wacky fun-loving adult, I could also see her calling him Scoops** **… What do you guys think? Does anyone know of an episode that offers clarification on this?**

 **-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“Silhouette” by Owl City** _ **— This song, I think, is a vague yet powerful representation of what Becky is feeling right now. The clashing of her desire and her duty, her resistance and her resolve, and the hopelessness that sets in when she faces what a no-win situation this is. The second verse might actually fit Tobey better than it fits Becky, so I guess if you wanted to you could sort of think of this as a shared theme song between them.**


	5. Albatross

**Foreword:**

**You know how some TV shows will randomly throw in an episode that's basically just a mashup of important moments in the series to make sure everyone is caught up with what's happened in the story so far? Basically, that's what this chapter is. ^^' It's a recap for those who either didn't read the previous fic or don't remember it all that well. Hopefully it won't just feel like glorified filler. Personally, I love this chapter. It was surprisingly challenging to write. Besides it's not like there's** _**no** _ **important material in it. *wink***

 

* * *

  
Albatross [ **al** -b _uh_ -traws] – a seemingly inescapable moral or emotional burden, as of guilt, or responsibility.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

 _“Tobey, what are you doing?” Becky shouted as she zipped into view, flying alongside my robot as it charged purposefully through the city streets. She was, of course, in costume as_ _WordGirl. Yet for some reason, ever since I'd discovered her secret identity, I had permanently thought of her as 'Becky,' regardless of what she was wearing._

_I felt a little tremor at hearing her voice but nonetheless frowned at her from my position on the robot's left shoulder. I was a vengeful twelve-year-old villain whose wrath had been invoked, and not even my heroine's disarming presence would be enough to pacify me._

_“I'm destroying Megahard Industries,” I spitefully announced._

_“But, why?” Becky asked, as though she couldn't imagine the reason. Honestly, how many times had we been through this?_

_“Because I spent_ weeks _working on that program!_ _” I shouted, clenching a pair of fists by my furiously pounding heart._

_“What program?” she asked._

_“My robot program!” I screamed, and almost lost track of my accent amidst my frenzied emotions. “_ Dozens _of labor-intensive hours utterly wasted because of a freak computer malfunction!_ _”_

 _The building came within reach and my robot prepared to strike, but before it could take its first swing Becky got in the way, spreading her arms and looking me straight in the eyes._ _“Wait, stop!”_

_“No!” I screamed. “I'm going to decimate this building! Gill Bates has victimized my valuable time with his shoddy operating system for the last time!”_

_“Tobey,_ please _, I know you're smarter than this,_ _” she entreated. “Just calm down and_ think _for a minute!_ _”_

_“Thinking won't fix anything!”_

_“But what will wrecking this building fix?”_

_I gritted my teeth even harder and tightened my grip on my remote. She had a point, but_ _… why was she saying this now all of a sudden? This was what I_ always _did. This was who I_ was _. I couldn't just_ stop _being who I was, could I? Why would I even want to?_

_“Well... at least I am taking direct action against an insufferable corporation,” I retorted. “Consider it feedback.”_

_Becky frowned back at me._ _“And after you've finished, then what? You'll be in so much trouble, and you'll have nothing to show for it!”_

_I noticed that my hands in their loose grip on my remote had begun to quiver, and I shook my head violently. No! I knew what she was trying to do, and I couldn't let her get the better of me like this!_

_I crossed my arms._ _“Oh, you think a giant pile of rubble is nothing to show for it?”_

_“Nothing that does any good.”_

_“I'm not_ trying _to do good! I'm a_ villain _,_ _” I shouted. “Now either fight me or get out of my way!”_

 _She didn't immediately respond_ _—just floated there in silence for a moment, staring at me. Her eyes went misty, and I lost a bit of my nerve. If she cried, I was done for. I still hadn't recovered from the confusing mess of feelings that assaulted me the_ last _time I'd made her cry. I could feel the hot blood draining from my face, the anger-fueled tension seeping from my muscles. My whole body was enervating in response to her silent plea._

 _“Tobey, it's not worth it,” she exclaimed, splaying out her hands. “Come on, I know you can do this—I mean,_ not _do this! Just hand me the remote, and we'll talk about it, okay?_ _”_

 _My rage subsided slightly, and I hesitated. She really didn't want to fight. If I pressed on, might she just leave? I didn't know, but I_ did _know that if I surrendered, she would stay. I wanted her to stay. I didn't want to surrender. Blasted dilemma_ _…_

_I squeezed my remote harder than ever, biting my lip and looking back and forth between Becky and the building behind her. I had to admit that talking with her did sound a little better than watching my robot smash Megahard's corporate headquarters._

_I glared down at my remote and pressed a button. My robot held up its palm like a platform at my feet, and I stepped forward onto it. I was lowered to the edge of the rooftop, where Becky hovered in midair, and I hopped down. I grudgingly took a couple of steps toward her and handed over my remote, grunting in frustration to make it clear that I was not entirely satisfied with this arrangement._

_She gingerly took hold of my remote, looking pleasantly surprised._ _“Tobey, you did it!” She blasted. I shot her an annoyed frown and she hastily amended, “I mean,_ didn't _do it._ _”_

 _I crossed my arms and plopped down with a grumble, glaring down the side of the building._ _“Yes, but, how is_ not _destroying buildings supposed to make me feel better?_ _” I fumed, propping up my elbows on my knees and dropping my chin into my hands._

_Becky gently floated up next to me and sat down at my side. I felt a stab of annoyance when I saw her set down my remote on her opposite side, but it melted in the warmth of the smile she brandished at me._

_“Well that's just it, Tobey,” she said. “How you_ act _isn't always supposed to be about how you feel. I mean, imagine if I came to your house and destroyed all your robots every time_ I _got angry._ _”_

 _My eyes opened wider at the thought of that. I straightened and met her eyes._ _“Do you… get angry often?”_

 _She raised an eyebrow at me._ _“Tobey, I fight villains on a daily basis,_ and _I have a little brother._ _”_

 _I swallowed._ _“I see your point.”_

_“Look,” she went on in a calm, soothing tone, “I'm not saying you can't do things to make yourself feel better—just that those things can't involve using giant robots to destroy other people's property.”_

_I groaned in disappointment._

_Becky was quiet for a few seconds, then optimistically said,_ _“Tell you what? I'll make a deal with you. If you agree to try some different ways of getting your anger out, I'll give you a reward every time you want to destroy something and don't.”_

 _I perked with interest._ _“A reward?”_

_“Oh, a reward is a gift given to thank or encourage someone who has done something good. So when I say—”_

_“I_ know _what a reward is,_ _” I interrupted, looking away as I rolled my eyes._

_“So what do you say?”_

_I thought about it for a moment, then skeptically murmured,_ _“I suppose it couldn't hurt to try.”_

_“'Atta boy!” She gave me a pat on the back, and I almost fell off the roof._

_I steadied myself, then stared expectantly at her. After a moment of silence, I said,_ _“Well?”_

 _Becky blinked, the smile falling from her face._ _“Oh, well, I didn't think_ now _would count, since I just_ _…”_

 _I narrowed my eyebrows at her, and she reluctantly muttered,_ _“Okay, fine. Um…”_

 _She looked over her suit for a moment, then smiled and snapped her fingers._ _“I've got it!”_

 _She took off her helmet and pulled something from behind her head that she then held out to me._ _“Here you go.”_

 _I eyed the object for a second, then looked back up at her with one eyebrow raised._ _“A bobby pin?”_

 _Her face went neutral, and she flatly muttered,_ _“Give me a break, McCallister, it's all I've got.”_

 _I took it from her and eyed it thoughtfully._ _“Um… you do realize that I'm a boy, don't you?”_

_“Oh, pfft,” she bubbled with a dismissive flick of her hand. “These things aren't gender-specific. Besides, they're really useful.” She grabbed the pin from my hand and enthusiastically asked, “May I?”_

_I knew in my gut that I'd regret this, but I just couldn't say no to her smiling face, especially when it was so close to mine. I nodded hesitantly._

_With a grin, she replaced her helmet and scooted a little closer to me, then began working the pin into my hair. I could feel my face warming at her touch. When she was finished she pulled back to look at her handiwork and immediately snorted a chuckle._

_“What?” I snapped, my frustration returning._

_“Nothing.” She looked away, giggling loudly, and I pulled the bobby pin from my hair. I stood up with an indignant huff, marched over to Becky's other side, snatched up my remote, and climbed into the hand of the robot still waiting for me to come aboard. I grumbled as my robot began lumbering back home, but nonetheless fastened Becky's 'reward' to an inconspicuous lock of hair behind my ear._

 

« … »

 

I stared down at the simple black hairpin in my hand, sitting in the same spot on the same rooftop where Becky had given it to me almost two years ago.

Now that I'd had some time to calm down and think, I was surprised to find myself brooding not over the future, but the past. Thinking about how different I was before she took me by the heart and molded me into a better person, I found myself wondering why I'd fallen in love with her in the first place.

Maybe it was just the allure of her celebrity, or maybe I simply thought she was pretty. Whatever the reason, it had started a vicious cycle. The more I liked her, the more I wanted to be around her, and the more I was around her, the more I liked her. Before I knew it, she was the center of my life… and I would have done anything just to get her to notice me.

It galled and depressed me to think that I had unwittingly sabotaged my own chances with her. For a boy genius, I was pretty stupid back then. I showed my affection for her by trying to beat her. Somehow in my childish ignorance, I'd thought that by winning _against_ her I could win… _her_. I knew better now that it was too late. A prize as valuable as Becky wasn't so easily won.

It was probably just as well, though, since I didn't even come close to deserving her. Falling for her was probably the only good thing I'd done up until I turned thirteen, and even _that_ I'd managed to egregiously mishandle.

The way I'd treated Becky before I knew she was WordGirl was my greatest regret, and even the way I'd treated her as WordGirl was at best tolerable and at worst deplorable. After all I'd put her through, it was a miracle she was gracious enough to want to have anything to do with me. But that was Becky for you. She was nothing if not gracious.

I hadn't really thought about it until now, but I was starting to realize that, even though _I'd_ always been the one with the crush, Becky had been the first to show genuine concern for me. Even back when I was was a public menace and a constant nuisance to her, she would still talk to me, help me, and try to convince me to do the right thing. No matter how many times I interrupted her life with my routine tantrums and desperate cries for attention, she was always willing to give me another chance.

She went beyond tolerating me and actually befriended me, showing me kindness when I was at my worst—the type of kindness that could change a person. Even a person like me. In spite of everything, she had seen the good in me at a time when I was just a troubled adolescent with too much power and not enough responsibility. She had saved me.

I closed my fingers around the bobby pin she'd given to me, and held it to my chest. What in the world would I do… if she left?

She was my whole world—my anchor in everything about me that was even remotely good. If it wasn't for her I'd probably be an inmate at Juvenile Hall by now, not a fourteen-year-old high school graduate working toward a Doctorate in Robotic Engineering and Computer Science. All the future dreams she'd helped me build seemed like they'd be meaningless if she wasn't there to watch me achieve them.

“We've got to stop meeting like this,” a familiar angelic voice said out of nowhere.

My heart skipped a beat, and I looked to my right to see Becky floating down toward me, silhouetted in sunlight. She was still the most beautiful creature I'd ever laid eyes on.

I forced a frown and sourly muttered, “Are you here to lecture me about the oil rig?”

“No,” she answered, though she did sound a little annoyed. She alighted beside me like a swan on still water and patiently added, “Actually, I'm proud of you for picking a target that was already pretty much condemned.”

The frown fell from my face, and I squelched the fluttering in my heart before it could develop into something dangerous. The last thing I wanted to do was get emotional _now_ , while she was right here watching. I couldn't force myself to look away from her, though. Not just yet.

She heaved a sigh and glanced fondly out at the cityscape as it basked in the evening sunlight. “I know I can't exactly compare it to millions of people's lives, but… I wonder what would happen to this city if I wasn't here to protect it.”

I thought for a moment, then matter-of-factly said, “Well, it would probably either be enslaved by mind control or turned into cheese,” I hesitated for a brief moment, then caved to my frustration and added, “or destroyed by an army of giant robots.”

“Tobey, don't be like that,” she chastened listlessly. “It's not like I _want_ to go.”

“Then why are you even considering it?”

The little voice came back again, and this time I had the sense to harken to it and reign in my anger.

Becky looked into my eyes, her face brave and earnest, and somberly said, “You _know_ why.”

I breathed out and finally turned to look down at my feet as they dangled off the side of the building. “Yeah, I know.”

Of course I knew why. It was the same reason she'd spent two years of her life dragging a headcase like me out of the mud. It was just the kind of person she was—always trying to help the weak, protect the innocent, and serve others. It was one of the things I loved about her. “Well... let me know when you decide what you're going to do.”

She grew suspiciously quiet all of a sudden, and I felt my insides twist. “You've already decided, haven't you?”

She bit her lip and looked down. “Yes.”

I took a deep breath and stood to my feet, then walked a few paces away from her toward the middle of the roof. I felt… cold. Empty. Like something important deep inside me had been extinguished, and I could never be warm again. Even though I'd been contemplating this possibility for hours now, it still seemed so sudden and overwhelming that it was surreal.

This couldn't be happening.

I couldn't… I didn't… I just…

 _No_ _…_

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Doesn't matter,” I replied, my voice somehow devoid of emotion.

“That's not true, Tobey,” she said tenderly, her voice getting closer. “You know I—”

“I said don't worry about it!” I snapped, clutching my hands into tight fists. “Just leave me alone.”

She gasped so faintly I almost couldn't hear it, then zipped off, leaving a streak of light in the sky behind her.

I hated myself just then. I hated that I sounded like I was mad at her. The truth was, I didn't _really_ want her to leave me alone.

I just didn't want her to see me cry.

 

« ... »

 

_My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me._

— _Psalm 63:8_

 

* * *

 

**Author's Notes:**

**-** _**“… the most beautiful creature I'd ever laid eyes on…”—** _ **It's not really important, but I thought I'd go ahead and mention that this bit of Tobey poetry is actually a reference back to something he said back in his debut short 'Play Date.' Just before ripping a WordGirl doll in half, he swooningly says,** **“Well, if I thought she was the most beautiful creature I'd ever laid eyes on, would I do** _**this** _ **?** **” Smooth, Tobey. Real smooth. *rolls eyes***

 **-** _**WordGirl VS Tobey VS The Time Paradox** _ _**—** _ **See what I did there? :P Some of you might recognize the flashback in this chapter. It's actually flashing back to something that happened in** _**Saving Tobey** _ **. Well, remember how I said that I wrote the first draft of this story BEFORE I wrote** _**Saving Tobey** _ **? You guessed it! This scene actually existed as a flashback first and was later grafted into the story it actually happens in. XP Of course, I had to make** _**lots** _ **of adjustments in order for it to work in both stories** **… You wouldn't believe how much trouble I had with** _**that** _ **little endeavor. *-***

 **-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“Who I Am Hates Who I've Been” by Relient K—** _ **This song is about regrets and the desire to move beyond them. It fits Tobey beautifully, both as a reflection on his past and an expression of his grief in the present. It's mostly sad, but it also has a thread of hope very subtly woven in.** _**I** _ **think so, anyway.**

 **-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“Take It All Away” by Owl City** _ **— This is a breakup song, so there are places where it doesn't quite work, but I still think it describes what Tobey is feeling** _**really** _ **well. I mean seriously, right from the first line I was thinking about Tobey, and now the darn song breaks my heart every time I hear it. T-T**

 **-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“Silence” by Jars of Clay** _ **— This one has a weird, almost emotionally deadened feel to it that just screams 'heartbreak.' Sometimes it barely even makes sense, but does it in a way that makes me think of how hard it would be to describe your feelings when you feel like you've been abandoned.**

 **-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“Never Be The Same” by Red** _ **— This one's pretty self-explanatory. ;)** **… T-T**


	6. Incubus

 

Incubus [ **in** -ky _uh_ -b _uh_ s] – something that weighs upon or oppresses one like a nightmare.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

I jetted at top speed just below the clouds, raining down tears on the city I didn't want to leave behind. If it was this bad after telling Tobey, I could only imagine what it would be like to tell my family. Regardless, I had made my decision. No matter how much I loved the people I would be leaving, I knew I could never simply go about my life knowing that people were dying who I could save. My city had somehow managed before WordGirl, and I had faith that it could learn to do so again. As for my family, well… I was about to find out.

I landed in front of my house and dried my eyes. If I had to drop this cruel twist of fate on them, I at least wanted to put on an air of strength so that they wouldn't worry about me. Taking a deep breath, I opened the front door and walked inside.

“I'm home,” I announced.

Mom and Dad were sitting together on the couch with worried looks on their faces, and they jumped when they saw me.

“Becky!”

“Oh, we've been so worried about you!”

They ran to meet me and crushed me with a hug.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” Dad asked.

I was surprised by this greeting at first, then suddenly remembered how I had mysteriously run off in the middle of dinner. No wonder they were concerned.

 _Come to think of it_ , _maybe it would be better to wait until tomorrow to tell them,_ I considered.

“Oh, don't worry,” I said with a flick of my hand, mustering a cheerful smile that I hoped would allay their anxiety. “Nothing is—”

A lump rose up in my throat, and I couldn't finish. I swallowed hard and tried once more to force out the lie. “Nothing is… wrong…”

“All right,” fumed TJ, whom I'd just noticed approaching from the other side of the room. He rolled up his sleeves and brandished a fist as he angrily spat, “What did that punk say to you? I'm gonna teach him a lesson next time I see him!”

“Oh, calm down, TJ,” I said, feigning nonchalance. “Tobey didn't do anything. I just…”

I faltered, struggling ever harder to force words from my throat. What was wrong with me? All I had to do was brush them off and get up to my room. Couldn't I keep it together for even a few minutes for my family's sake? It would be hard enough on them if they thought I was completely resolved. I couldn't exacerbate their pain by adding my own to it.

Yet, in spite of myself, I felt a new tear streak down my face. Instead of words, all that escaped my throat were sobs. My composure crumbled completely, and I dropped my face into my hands and started to cry.

“Becky?”

“Honey, what's wrong?”

“What happened?”

 _So much for letting them down gently,_ I thought, feeling guilty. No use trying to hide it now. I sniffled, wiping my eyes, and at last weakly managed to say, “Mom… Dad… TJ…”

They waited for me to finish, their faces full of worry.

A sudden, sharp ache rent my heart like the pages of a well-loved old book, and I blasted through my tears, “I don't want to leave! I want to stay here with you!”

“Becky, what are you talking about?” TJ asked, sounding both afraid and confused.

“I have to go back,” I sobbed, barely intelligible to my own ears. “I have to go back to Lexicon.”

I threw myself at my father, hugging him tight and wailing in sorrow.

“Oh, Becky,” he gasped in astonishment. His arms wrapped tenderly around me.

A moment later I felt Mom's warmth against my back as she embraced me from the opposite side. I wasn't sure when Bob had arrived, but his furry body brushed my skin as he hugged me around the legs, giving a pained squeak.

“You…” TJ murmured in disbelief, and then he added in a shout, “You _can't!_ ”

Mom covered my ears with her hands, as though that would keep me from hearing them, and cautiously said, “TJ, we'll talk about this later.”

“NO!” TJ screamed with a stamp of his foot. “She can't leave! I won't _let_ her!”

And with that, he turned on his heels and stormed upstairs in a rage. A moment later I heard him slam the door to his room and then collapse on his bed, crying as hard as I was.

This hearing ability of mine was turning out to be a curse in more ways than one.

That night I lay in bed in the dark, unable to sleep. Normally I could tune out the distant noises around me, but now the sounds I wished I couldn't hear were as inescapable as a bad dream. They wafted in from my parents' room, from my brother's room, and even from my own room. The sounds of frustration, denial, and sorrow.

I hugged myself, shuddering. There was a rustling at my bedside, and I looked up to see Bob rise from his bed on the floor and silently waddle toward _my_ bed. Without explanation, he climbed under the covers beside me and wrapped me up in his long, strong arms. I nuzzled against his warm fur, grateful but inconsolable. He seemed to understand.

The night wore painfully on, and we neither spoke nor slept.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

I slammed the front door without meaning to and winced, realizing too late that I really didn't want to draw attention to my arrival. It would be foolish to hope that my mother might not notice the state I was in. Sure enough, before I could bolt for my room Mom materialized at the far end of the hall wearing a concerned expression and softly called out, “Tobey?”

I turned away from her, lest she see the tempestuous look on my face, and dashed up the stairs without answering.

“Tobey?” she called again, sounding worried this time, and she bounded after me with predatory speed.

I flew into my room and slammed the door behind me, right in my mother's face if the clarity of her voice was any indication. I regretted my rashness even as I locked the door. I hadn't treated my mother so disrespectfully since I was a villain. Even back then I would have refrained in all but the most outrageous circumstances out of sheer _fear_. But no fear—not even of my mother—could overpower what I was feeling right now.

Both my hands clutched into weak, trembling fists against the hard wood of my bedroom door, and I sank to the floor.

My mother rapped frantically on the door behind me, calling my name and asking what was wrong over and over again. I couldn't find the strength to answer. A small, shameful part of me wanted to unlock the door, let my mother in, and spew out the whole awful story… to tell her how much I loved Becky, and how lost I would be without her… to fall to pieces there at my mother's feet and draw whatever comfort I could from her company in my misery…

But I didn't. My mother was the only other person in my life whose opinion of me mattered. She was the strongest person I knew besides Becky, and once Becky was gone she would be all I had left. This thought broke me all over again, but it also stirred me to a firm determination. I would not let my mother see me in my weakness. I would suffer alone in silence, and let her worry. Better she worry than know.

“I'm all right, Mother,” I lied, desperately willing neutrality into my voice. “Just… anxious to get back to work.”

I could tell she didn't quite believe me from the way she lingered on the other side of my door. For a long, tense moment I heard neither her voice pestering me for answers nor her footsteps walking away. Then, finally, she muttered in a somewhat perturbed tone, “Very well, Tobey. I'll be downstairs if you need anything.”

I listened as the slow, reluctant clicking of her high heels carried off into the house, until I was at last alone in the silence of my bedroom. Only then did I allow myself to release the sob that I had been holding back since I came in here.

I staggered to my feet and meandered over to the corkboard on the wall beside my bed. It was bedecked with a motley collection of notes, drawings, and other what-have-you that furled and layered about in a haphazard mess, but the star item was a crinkled old newspaper clipping nestled carefully in the very center. No other papers obstructed so much as a faded yellow corner of this treasure.

The clipping was a picture of WordGirl, from the day I saw her for the first time almost seven years ago. She was a fledgling superhero back then, and I was still a couple of years from debuting as a villain, but that day when I first saw her resplendent smile was the day I had set my heart on her. Becky probably didn't even remember it, but I could never forget.

Loosely attached to the picture by a small paperclip was a plain yellow sticky note, much newer than the newspaper clipping it clung to. It was a note that Becky had given to me on my thirteenth birthday, soon after we had officially transitioned from enemies to friends. Her delicate freehand print said with ponderous brevity, _'Let's fight together from now on.'_

I stared at the picture and the note for a long, torturous moment—remembering, and wishing for the first time in my life that I _could_ forget. I shivered, feeling a phantom chill for the second time that day. My eyes snapped shut, and my jaw clenched as I choked on another sob.

“What am I supposed to do now?” I whispered despondently into the silence.

Of course, there was no answer.

I absently reached into one of my pockets and closed shaking fingers around the little robot puppy that Becky had liked so much. I hadn't seen her that happy since her last birthday party, and the memory sparked a tiny flicker of joy in my grief-stricken heart.

I glanced over at my desk, which was in an even sorrier state than my corkboard, and let my teary eyes rest on the neural interface plans I'd been working on that morning. To think that mere hours ago I'd been happily tinkering away in this very room, with no idea that the dearest, most important part of my life was about to be ripped away from me.

For a moment I stared out the window at the setting sun and a cityscape that was only just ushering in the dark of night. Then, taking in a deep breath, I sank into the chair at my desk with all the grace and enthusiasm of a beached whale waiting to die.

I reached purposefully for a pen and my handheld computer. It was far too late to start working on a new project, but I didn't care. There was no way I'd be able to sleep tonight, anyway.

 

« ... »

 

_For we are aliens and pilgrims before You, As were all our fathers; Our days on earth are as a shadow, And without hope._

— _1 Chronicles 29:15_

 

* * *

 

**Author's Notes:**

**-** _**More Non-Canon Backstory** _ _**—** _ **The bit about the newspaper picture and sticky note is (surprise, surprise) referencing back to a bit of self-designed history I established in** _**Saving Tobey** _ **. If you're interested in reading just the parts of that fic relevant to this, you can find them in the first scene of chapter 15 and the last scene of chapter 26.**

 **-** _**Incubus** _ _**—** _ **I used this word because** _**one** _ **of its definitions was so perfect for the chapter. However, I feel I should caution you, if you care to use it yourself in the future, that one of the word's** _**other** _ **definitions is super creepy. >_<**

 **-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“Break Your Heart” by The Age of Information** _ **— I think of this song as Becky, realizing with a heavy heart that Tobey's feelings for her will only end up hurting him, and trying to convince him to let her go. T-T**

 **-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“Up All Night” by Owl City—** _ **This song is actually what inspired that scene with Tobey at home. Before I made the connection, this was just a pitifully short chapter that completely overlooked Tobey's side of this heartbreaking aftermath. Everyone say, 'Thank you, Adam Young.' :P**

 **-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“Say Goodbye” by Skillet** _ **— Here's another Tobey song that isn't a perfect fit, but captures his feelings pretty well anyway.**


	7. Relinquish

**Foreword:**

**In a way, this is the most important chapter in the fanfic. It contains the scene that my brother dreamed up last year** **—the one that inspired the whole story. I hope I** **’ve done it justice.**

 

* * *

 

Relinquish [ri- **ling** -kwish] – to let go; release.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

I waited by the road skirting the side of the forest. When I told him I wanted to say goodbye to my family and friends before we left, Darix had been kind enough to move his ship to a position that was still mostly out of sight, but close to the road. My parents both had work while TJ had school, and I had rejected their unanimous offer to take the day off. I wanted to come ahead alone so I could collect myself before I saw everyone.

It had been two weeks since I'd made the decision to go back to Lexicon. The day after I’d told my family, Darix had met with my parents to tell his side of the story. He had been very kind and understanding, assuring them with firm conviction that I would be safe with him, and I was surprised at just how much emotion had leaked through his steady, guarded expression.

“I won’t tell you not to worry. I know that is something no decent parent could manage,” he had said, wilting noticeably, and I almost thought I saw him shudder. “I know well the torment of fearing for the safety of your child. _Believe me_. I promise I will do my utmost to see that no harm comes to your daughter.”

Mom and Dad believed him, though I could tell they wished they didn’t.

For the remainder of those two weeks, my family and I had done everything we could think of to prepare for my departure. Dad had put together a detailed cover story about how I was going to study overseas, and mom had been quietly pulling strings to get the police force special training to wean them from their dependence on me. My first battle after Darix’s arrival had been against Chuck the Evil Sandwich-Making Guy, and I had been so emotionally high-strung that I’d burst into tears at his mention of needing to get home to his mom. Instead of fighting, the two of us ended up sitting together on a bench by the bus stop while I blurted out the whole story (careful to gloss over any details that might give away my secret identity).

I had been surprised at how sympathetic Chuck had been that day, and even more surprised that villain attacks within the city had ground to a halt afterward. I doubted that was a coincidence, and never before had doubt so warmed my heart. There was no telling how long they intended to restrain themselves out of respect for me, but any grace from them was more than I would have dared to hope for. It made me feel a little less uneasy about how the city would fare without me.

I glanced nervously up the road, wishing I'd thought to bring a watch or… _something_ that could tell me the time.

“Where _is_ everyone?” I asked absentmindedly. “Shouldn't they have been here by now?”

Captain Huggyface shrugged at my side. We were both dressed in our superhero attire, which would now serve its intended purpose as standard issue Lexiconian space uniforms. I hadn't told anyone, but I was still wearing my normal clothes underneath. Darix had told me that the transition would be easier if I didn't bring things from home with me, but I hadn't been able to resist the small comfort afforded by feeling the soft fleece against my skin that reminded me of home.

I sighed, trying not to let myself feel hurt by how long it was taking everyone to arrive. There had to be a perfectly understandable reason, and it wasn't that they didn't care about me.

The familiar sound of giant metal footsteps announced the first arrival, and I felt a mix of joy and apprehension when I saw Tobey riding toward me on the shoulder of one of his robots. I hadn't seen him since that day on the roof when I'd told him I was leaving, and the few times I'd tried to call, his mother had told me that he was too busy to talk—which probably meant he was too hurt and angry to talk to _me_. Hopefully after today I would have broken his heart for the last time. Guilt aside, I was really happy to see him.

I flew up to him and smiled without really meaning to. “I was beginning to wonder if anyone was coming.”

Tobey's face fell, and he faintly murmured. “I'm sorry.”

“For what?” I asked.

“For… everything.” At last he met my eyes, and the shy, repentant, look on his face melted my heart.

“Don't be sorry,” I said. “I'm just glad you came.”

“I'm glad… _you_ came.” He fidgeted nervously and appeared to be having trouble finding the words he wanted to say. “If I'd known how little time I would have with you, I would have—I mean, I _wouldn't_ have—”

He grumbled in frustration and looked away. “I just wish—I could've been a better friend to you.”

I sniffled and tried to fake a smile. I failed. “I wish I could've helped you… without hurting you so much.”

Tobey looked at me in silence for a moment, then reached out both his hands to me, palms facing outward. I hesitated for a second, confused by this gesture, but then suddenly understood. I laced my own arms around his, grasping them just past the elbows, then lifted him from the robot's shoulder, and gently lowered him to the ground.

His robot walked away once we touched down, and Tobey let go of my arms—reluctantly, it seemed.

“I, uh,” he muttered, swallowing before he finished. “I brought you something.”

He reached into his largest pocket and pulled out a metal headband, shimmering in the most gorgeous shade of silver I'd ever seen. It would have been pretty enough if it were just that, but to top it off Tobey had personalized it with a small heart made of little red rivets, like the ones on his robots.

“Oh, Tobey… It's beautiful.”

He pulled it back when I reached for it, and blushingly asked, “May I?”

I felt my own cheeks flush when I realized what he meant.

“S-Sure,” I muttered, averting my eyes. I pulled off my helmet, setting it on the ground beside me, and held still as Tobey stepped closer and tenderly situated the accessory on my head. The gentle tickle of his fingers brushing against my hair made me feel happy for some reason, and I realized a bit perplexed that this moment felt familiar, although I couldn't quite place it in my memory.

Before he stepped back, Tobey ran his finger across the top of the headband, and I jumped in surprise when I heard a faint whirring noise and a small rectangular box appeared in my field of vision as though it was being projected from inside my brain. Numbers and a few other fields displayed across the top, but the screen itself was dominated by black.

“Call him,” Tobey instructed.

“Him?” I wondered aloud, still dumbstruck in awe at what he'd just done with the headband.

Tobey nodded. “I think you called him… Cuddlepie.”

I blinked in surprise, remembering the robot dog that Tobey had shown me the day Darix's ship landed. If memory served, that same day Tobey had mentioned that he was working on some kind of neural interface that could let you control robots with your brain. Could he have really…?

“So I just… _think_ about it?”

“Yeah.”

Without asking any more questions, I closed my eyes, pictured the little dog in my head, and willed it to come to me. I wasn't sure if I was doing it right at first, but then I heard a tiny mechanical bark and saw a speck of light appear on the black screen. The little dog-bot popped his head and front paws out of one of Tobey's pockets, looking straight at me, and at the same time, I saw myself appear on the intangible screen, smiling in amazement.

“Wow, Tobey,” I whispered. “You really did it.”

Cuddlepie jumped from Tobey's pocket and sized up as he hopped over to me, jumping up on my leg and happily wagging his tail.

“I want you to have him,” Tobey said.

I looked up at him, seeing my own starry-eyed expression through Cuddlepie's eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Tobey said. “I can always make another one, and… I want you to have something to remember me by.”

I smiled, then almost laughed. I would have to get amnesia to forget about _him_.

A strong tug on my heartstrings warned me that the moment was becoming dangerously sentimental, and I decided to put an end to it. One of the few, small advantages to this awful situation was that I no longer needed to worry about figuring out my feelings toward Tobey, and the last thing I wanted to do was reopen that can of worms right before stepping out of his life forever.

I fingered the headband, and Cuddlepie returned to his miniature size and shut down. I picked him up and put him in a pocket inside my suit for safekeeping, then put my helmet back on and impatiently looked around.

“I wonder what's taking everyone so long,” I complained, partly to diffuse the emotion in the atmosphere and partly out of genuine curiosity.

Tobey shrank his shoulders and bashfully tapped his index fingers together. “Um, about that,” he muttered, “I may have accidentally left one or two of my robots on a few of the major freeways.”

My eyes opened wider in surprise. I wasn't sure how to react to that. Honestly, I should have been furious with him for pulling a stunt like that and making what was already a hard time for my family even harder. Yet, against my better nature, I was touched that he was willing to go so far to get a moment alone with me. I heaved a flustered sigh and put a hand over my face. “Oh, Tobey… what am I going to do with you?”

He gave a halfhearted chuckle, then grew somber again. He swallowed, then softly murmured, “Becky, I—”

He was cut off by the screeching of tires, and we both looked to the road where my dad's car had skidded to a halt. All the doors simultaneously flew open, and my family came flooding out, along with Scoops and Violet.

“I am so sorry we're late, Becky,” Mom gasped. “The traffic on the way here was absolutely dreadful!”

“Oh, I'm terribly sorry to hear that, Mrs. Botsford,” Tobey said, naturally slipping into British. I crossed my arms and rolled my eyes, but didn't have the heart to rat him out.

“How long has _he_ been here?” TJ grumbled, eying Tobey like he was an uninvited guest.

“TJ,” Mom said, placing a warning hand on his shoulder, “We're here for _Becky_ , dear.”

TJ's frown melted into a sad look, and for the first time I'd ever seen, he willingly backed off from Tobey.

“Becky,” my Dad said, walking up to me and placing a firm hand affectionately on my shoulder. “I want to make sure you know how unbelievably proud of you your mother and I are.”

Mom fell into place at his side and grasped my hands in hers. “For you to secretly protect our city for all those years, and now to leave behind your whole life to protect the people of another world…” She trailed off, then finished in a wavering voice, “Well, all I can say is that if the people of Lexicon are as kind and wonderful as you, there's not a doubt in my mind that you'll be happy there.”

For a moment I couldn’t speak. My heart pounded, my eyes tingled, and Dad took my face in his hands to wipe away the gathering tears before they could fall.

“Thank you so much,” I said, letting my emotions flow freely now that there was no point in containing them. “Mom… Dad… When I came to this planet, lost and empty-handed, I couldn't have possibly ended up with a better family. You’ve taught me so much, and you were always there for me.”

I swallowed a sob, looking up at the hopeful yet sorrowful faces of my mother and father, and drew strength from them as I always had. Where would my strength come from once they were no longer there? My voice trembled as I struggled out my final words to them. “No matter how kind or wonderful the Lexiconians are… I don't think anyone I meet will ever compare to you. I wouldn't be who I am if you weren't my parents. I probably wouldn't even be alive right now.”

Mom and Dad embraced me from either side, and I lingered in their arms as long as I could, knowing that after this moment I might never feel the comfort of their touch again.

Mom gave me an affectionate kiss on the cheek, and they finally backed away from me, clearing a space between me and my brother. He stared at the ground, his face almost emotionless, and I tried not to wonder what he was concealing behind that feigned indifference.

I put on a fresh smile for him, and cheerfully said, “Well, TJ, we've certainly had our ups and downs, but at the end of the day, I'm really—”

Before I could even finish one sentence, TJ ran forward and plowed right into me, clinging to me as if for dear life.

“Don't go, Becky,” he sobbed, his voice muffled by the fabric of my suit. “I don't want you to go!”

“TJ…”

I was so shocked, I didn’t know what else to say. I had known that he was against this whole thing from the beginning, but even so… a part of me still saw TJ as the snippy little boy he’d been five years ago—the boy who had routinely made snide remarks about me and taken pleasure in my shortcomings. Who knew it would take an event as monumental as _this_ for me to recognize how much my brother loved me?

Tobey, still standing beside me, resentfully muttered, “Big baby.”

TJ heard him, apparently, because he pulled away from me and gave Tobey a swift kick in the shin. Tobey yelped in pain and collapsed on the ground.

I made a face and rolled my eyes. What could I say? Tobey had asked for it, and if I couldn't get mad at _him_ for purposely delaying my family's arrival, I could hardly get mad at TJ for this.

Ignoring Tobey for the moment, I grabbed my brother around the shoulders and held him close. I could feel the tension leaving his body as I did so.

“I love you, TJ,” I said, “Please don't ever forget that.”

TJ sniffled, then snuggled into my arms for the first time in his life. He mumbled something that was unintelligible even to my super-hearing—though I imagined I could make a pretty good guess. I smiled.

Tobey was climbing to his feet as I released my brother, and I shot him a quick warning glance just before turning to Violet. As usual, she was simply glowing with childlike innocence. Her face was clearly sorrowful, but amidst one of the most beautiful and genuine smiles I'd ever seen. I drifted over to her, clasping my hands in front of me as she was, and did my best to return her encouraging smile.

“Violet, you're the best friend I could have ever hoped for. You're kind, and generous, and forgiving…” I took a recovery breath, drumming up the courage to finish. “Thank you for encouraging me to be honest with my family. I can't imagine how hard this would be if they still didn't know who I was, and I had to face this alone.”

“I'd like to think even without me you would've told them by now,” she said with a soft giggle.

I laughed back, swatting away a rebellious tear. “I don't know, Violet. I'm pretty dense, you know.”

“Becky,” Violet began. Her voice, like her face, was a beautiful combination of sorrow and hope. “I know it's hard to say goodbye, but… wherever you're _needed_ , is where you need to be. The time you spent with all of us was just the first chapter of your life. And if there's one thing you of all people know, it's that stories are always saddest at the end of a chapter. But no matter how hard or lonely the blank page in front of you may seem at first, you can always take courage in knowing that you can write a new chapter, and you can make it even better than the one before it.”

I stared at Violet in amazement. It felt like my heart had been broken and rebuilt over the course of just standing here listening to her beautiful farewell. How was it that she could be so wise, and so caring?

“Thank you, Violet,” I said, pointlessly trying to act like I wasn't an emotional wreck. “I'll remember that… always.”

We simultaneously fell into a hug, and I noticed that this was somehow the most comfortable, and least painful goodbye so far.

I finally pulled away from Violet and floated just a couple feet to her left.

“Scoops,” I said, staring down at his sad, friendly smile. Caught up in the moment, I could feel my old flame for him come back to life a little, and I unconsciously raised my hand up to my chest. “You knew and kept my secret longer than anyone.”

Huggy interrupted with an annoyed grumble, crossing his arms, and I had to laugh. In all the drama, I'd almost forgotten he was there.

“Well… longer than anyone who can speak English, anyway,” I corrected, mustering up an amused smile before the somberness once again took over. “Thanks for being such a good friend.”

“I should be saying that to _you_ ,” he said. His face was gentle, and his voice was kind. It was no wonder he and Violet had ended up together. I let out a wistful sigh, smiled once more. I was determined not to leave things this way. I didn't want everyone's last memory of me to be a sad one.

“Scoops,” I said in as cheerful a tone as I could muster. “Since I'm leaving the planet and all, I might as well get this off my chest… I had a _huge_ crush on you through the 5 th and 6th grade.”

“What?!” Tobey and Violet exclaimed at the same time, each with a distinctly different emotion in their voice.

Scoops' soft, serene expression instantly transformed into shock. He swallowed and forced a grin as he awkwardly muttered, “Oh, wow, Becky, I… did _not_ need to know that.”

“Sorry,” I said with an embarrassed giggle. “I was just trying to lighten the mood.”

Scoops nervously glanced from a steaming Tobey on his right, to a wilting Violet on his left, then back to me.

“Good job,” he muttered sarcastically.

Behind me, I heard the sound of the ship's cargo bay doors opening. I turned around to see Darix zip out of the ship and hover above it as he called out to me, “WordGirl, we are prepared for takeoff. Are you ready?”

My heart ached sharply for a second, but I brushed it off and calmly replied, “Yes, sir. I'm coming.”

On my right, Huggy finished dolling out goodbye hugs to our family. Wiping a tear from his eye, he somberly walked toward the ship. I floated after him about halfway there, then turned around to face my loved ones for a final farewell.

“Thank you all so much for being there for me, and helping me become the person I am,” I said, hovering about a foot off the ground. “I'll never forget…”

I trailed off, caught by surprise when Tobey broke away from the group and started walking toward me. What was he doing? I tried to continue speaking as though I hadn't noticed him, but despite my best efforts, my voice wavered. “I'll never… forget how… how you all…”

Tobey stopped right in front of me, and I turned my eyes downward. Somehow I lost my will to stay afloat and slowly drifted down until my feet met with the ground.

“Do you really have to go?” Tobey spoke softly with his real voice in spite of the crowd behind him, sounding forlorn and vulnerable.

“You know I do,” I said sadly, still avoiding his gaze.

“Will I ever see you again?”

My eyes stung with new tears until one spilled over my cheek. I forced myself to look up at him—he deserved that much—and my composure nearly crumbled when I saw the resigned yet broken look on his face. I swallowed and choked out the honest answer. “I don't know.”

Tobey said nothing more.

After a moment of silence, I took a step back from him and slowly began to float away. No sooner had my feet lifted off the ground I felt a tug on my arm, and I turned around to see that Tobey had grabbed my wrist. He stared longingly up into my eyes, still saying nothing, and I couldn't find the heart to rebuke him or the strength to resist him. He pulled gently on my hand, and against my better judgment, I let myself be drawn back toward him. Once I was close enough he gathered me into his arms, and a shudder of sorrowful longing coursed through my whole body.

“I'll miss you,” he whispered in my ear.

My eyes fell closed on impulse, and I sucked in a raspy breath. _I'll miss you, too,_ I wanted to say, but I couldn't get the words past the lump in my throat.

Finally, I tore myself away from him, afraid I'd lose my resolve if I lingered here any longer. I turned away before I could see his face and zipped over to the ship. I landed just inside and only then allowed myself to turn around. My family waved heartily, shedding tears and calling out goodbyes. Violet was crying into her left sleeve while Scoops held her right hand and waved to me with his free hand. Tobey stood alone, halfway between me and everyone else. His arms hung at his sides, his fingers clenched into loose, trembling fists. His sad eyes were fixed on me.

Huggy slipped his hand into mine, and Darix softly said, “Come, now. It's time to go home.”

I managed a tremulous nod and followed them into the ship. I was barely aware of my surroundings as he led me through the cargo bay and down a long corridor that branched off to other areas. When we reached the end I found myself in what must have been the ship's control room, or ‘bridge.’ It was different from the one on my ship. A translucent quarter-sphere partition with the appearance of thick glass bubbled over the top and front of the ship, offering a generous view of the outside like the windshield of a car. Computer terminals lined the walls, while a few more important-looking ones were nestled in special alcoves. In the center of the room was the captain’s chair—a rather large seat with small computer terminals on either side.

“Initiate takeoff procedures,” Darix instructed, floating toward his station.

The chatter of the crew as they prepared the ship for launch rose all around me and turned to indistinct babble in my ears.

After all the time I'd spent agonizing over this decision and preparing my family and friends for my departure, it was finally sinking in that I might never see any of them again. I might never get a hug from my Mom again, or do some silly activity with my Dad. I might never watch Pretty Princess and Magic Pony Power Hour with TJ again. I might never again listen to Scoops proudly read an article he wrote, or hear Violet's sweet voice make a strange yet insightful comment about life. I might never get to see Tobey finish his journey, and become the amazing person I truly believed he could be. Their lives would all go on without me, but I would no longer be part of them. I would become nothing more than a memory… and so would they.

The forest colors disappeared beyond the scope of the windshield as the ship rose from the ground and headed for the sky.

I felt like a huge part of me died right then, but I dug deep into what was left in search of the strength to carry on through this loss. No matter how much it hurt or how badly I wished it wasn't true, I had to accept that Earth was no longer my home, and that my life would be completely different from now on.

So, with the kind words of all my loved ones bolstering my heart, I seized my courage and faced the new chapter ahead of me with my head held high.

 

« ... »

 

_For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also._

— _Luke 12:34_

 

* * *

 

**Author's Notes:**

_**\- This is the End (If You Want It)** _ **— My brother strongly requested that this chapter feel like an ending. In fact, for a while we were even planning to try and fake everyone out and act like it** _**was** _ **the ending, though that plan fell through the cracks at some point. Regardless, I tried my best to meet this request and write this chapter in such a way that it could work as a satisfying conclusion, albeit a sad one. So, if you** **’re the type of reader who likes your endings bittersweet (heavy on the bitter), you can stop reading right here. This is the story’s** _**first** _ **ending. There will be three in total. :)**

 _**-Headband** _ **— Not sure if anyone noticed or even could notice, but the headband Becky is wearing in the cover art is the one Tobey gives her in this chapter. The little riveted heart is easier to see if you go to the DeviantArt page and zoom in. :)**

 _**-I Give Up** _ **— Okay, show of hands. Who already knew what 'relinquish' meant? I ask because, according to dictionary dot com, 'relinquish' is a word that few people know, but I always thought it was one of those big words that almost everyone knew. *-* I went ahead and used it, but I'm still super-curious whether it's actually an obscure word and I'm just a vocabulary nerd, or if it's a well-known word and dictionary dot com just doesn't know what it's talking about. :P**

 **-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“Let It All Out” by Relient K** _ **— One word: Tobey.**

 **-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“Ordinary World” by Duran Duran** _ **— I highly recommend the cover by Red if you don't care for the sound of the original, or the one by Aurora for a lovely female cover. The verses make me think of Tobey, but the chorus makes me think of Becky.**

 **-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“I Found Love” by Owl City** _ **— This song perfectly captures a moment of somber, quiet reflection on all that someone has meant to you after you've come to terms with your inevitable separation from them. It's very sad, very sweet, and very Tobey. :3**

 **-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“Right Here” by Hawk Nelson** _ **— It's funny including this in my WordGirl theme songs, because I made a music video for Ratchet & Clank with it years ago. :P I still ** _**really** _ **don't care for the singer's voice, but I love the song. It's the perfect attitude to have toward letting go of someone. T-T**


	8. Afflatus

**Foreword:**

***sniffles* Okay, enough sadness! Time to switch gears! *dons a reckless smile and slams the gas pedal***

 

* * *

 

Afflatus [ _uh_ - **fley** -t _uh_ s] – inspiration; an impelling mental force acting from within.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

While the warmth of her touch faded, I watched Becky drift away. I heard her sob, and then she was gone in a flash of light. She landed inside the ship, already worlds away, it seemed. Her beautiful eyes sparkled with tears. She looked out at her family, then at me, and beamed the most radiant smile I'd ever seen.

She waved at us, then Darix came up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder. She turned her back to me, and I felt the sorrow creeping up like icy tendrils from my stomach… but as she turned, I saw something that shocked me from my misery. Something that made my heart break all over again. As she looked away, her smile shattered, and for a fraction of a second I saw her true heart written on her face—terror, grief, and indescribable pain, the likes of which I'd never seen before.

I breathed out slowly, and her words from such a short time ago repeated in my mind…

 _“Don't be selfish,”_ she had said. _“It's not like I want to go!”_

I blinked. My mouth fell open, and the words tumbled right out. "She doesn't… want to go."

Obviously she didn't want to go. Why did I feel so surprised at being confronted with that fact? I knew she didn't want to leave Earth. I had _always_ known… I just never really _thought_ about it.

A shudder shook my bones as a new guilt overwhelmed me. Ever since Darix had asked Becky to return to Lexicon, I had only been thinking about why _I_ didn't want her to go. _My_ feelings. How her leaving would affect _me_. For the first time, I put myself in her place and tried to imagine what it would be like. If I had a family full of kind people who loved me, an entire city that depended on me, friends who would never be the same without me… if I was literally leaving my whole world behind, and I knew that I was hurting every single person I cared about… if I was going to a place that was foreign to me, where I would be surrounded by strangers and thus alone…

I choked on a sob. Tears had begun to roll down my face. Even as a hypothetical, it was torture. Compared to my pain, Becky's must have been incalculable. Her strength to make this choice in the face of such suffering was unfathomable to me. She must have been at her breaking point. She was probably breaking right now. And it had taken me until now to realize that.

The rumbling of the ship's engines announced that it was about to take off, and directly ahead of me the portcullis-like hatch door started to lift off the ground.

My heart raced. I might have lost my mind with grief and guilt right then, but I was suddenly certain that I couldn't leave things like this. I couldn't just watch them take Becky away, to a place she didn't want to go, where she would be frightened and lonely—perhaps for the rest of her life. She was my hero, my mentor, my only real friend—and if she had to face this terrifying future, I wasn't about to let her face it alone.

I squeezed my fists in determination and bolted toward the ship.

I was vaguely aware of surprised shouts behind me, but they were quickly lost in the roaring of engines. I got to the door just before it would have risen out of reach, and threw myself onto it. I managed to grasp the door's ledge in time, and I clung to it fiercely as it lifted me off the ground.

The large metal slab continued to ascend, and I knew that the higher it rose, the harder it would be to climb over it. I strained with effort, trying to pull myself over the door, and managed to get my elbows hooked over the ledge and my head and shoulders into the ship.

I looked up and saw the bay ceiling rapidly approaching. If I didn't get out of the way _fast_ , it would slice me in half. I grunted and redoubled my efforts. I had never been very strong, and the logical side of my brain was screaming at me that this was the stupidest thing I'd ever done, but it was too late to worry about that. Staying on Earth was no longer an option.

A burst of adrenaline surged through me, and I pushed up with all my might. Finally, I managed to get a leg over the top of the door and grunted with exertion as I pulled my body over the edge.

_CLANG!_

The hatch pounded shut as I slid down the inside of the door. I struck the ground in a roll and hit my head hard against the metal floor. The airlock sealed behind me with a hiss as I yelped in pain, grasping at my head as I struggled to my knees.

My heart continued to race, and I was still catching my breath when I looked around at the room I'd just tumbled into. Fortunately, I didn't see anyone. Judging by the rows of shelves stacked mostly with uniform containers, I was in the ship's cargo bay. It was dim, chilly, and duller than a performance by The Amazing Rope Guy. Apparently the presentational zeal with which the ship's outer hull had been shaped, painted, and polished had not extended to this room. There were only two prominent colors in here—the dreary gray of the metal walls and the stiff sandy brown of the copious cargo containers.

I turned my head and looked back in amazement at the imposing bay door like it was a mountain that I'd just scaled. It was sealed shut, meeting with the roof high above my head and dampening most of the sound from outside—though I could still hear the muffled but unmistakable noise of engines humming softly on standby.

My relief ran its course, and a feeling of frightening uncertainty followed in its wake. What had I just done? I knew even less about Lexicon than Becky did, and I wasn't even Lexiconian. What if I'd just committed a crime by coming aboard one of their ships without authorization? What if the conditions on their planet were inhospitable to humans? What if I couldn't survive on Lexicon and going back to Earth wasn't possible? Or what if it _was_?

I bit my trembling lip and moaned in apprehension. If I didn't die out in space, my mother was going to kill me.

"Hey, what was that?"

"What?"

"I thought I heard something over there by the aft hatch."

The voices had come from nearby. My instincts told me to hide, and I didn't question them. I scrambled to my feet as quietly as possible and ducked behind the nearest shelf unit. A thin strip of space between a couple of cargo containers provided a peephole, and through it I could see two of the ship's crew members. They were clad in the male variant of the suit that WordGirl wore, which I'd only seen before on Darix. They hovered in the spot where I'd just been, looking around.

"Hmm…" muttered the one whose voice I'd heard first. "Guess it was just my imagination."

"Will you relax?" the second one snapped, sounding annoyed. "There's nothing to be nervous about. We got the girl, didn't we?”

Something inside me tensed at hearing that. The girl? Had he just called Becky… 'the girl,' and said that they 'got' her, the way someone from Earth might talk about picking up groceries? It seemed to me a pretty irreverent way to talk about someone who was about to save your entire planet.

I felt annoyed at first, but then that feeling shifted into something even more unpleasant—suspicion. Remembering that Becky's life now rested in these people's hands, I considered nervously for the first time… that I had no solid proof of who they were.

"Come on, let's get to the bridge," said one of the men. "The ship is about to depart."

 

« ... »

 

“ _Don't ask me to leave you and turn back. Wherever you go, I will go; wherever you live, I will live. Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God.”_

— _Ruth 1:16_

 

* * *

 

**Author's Notes:**

_**-Theme Song:** _ _**“The Thief” by Relient K** _ **— I think of this as Tobey's reflections on his feelings and his relationship with Becky, leading up to the moment when he decides to go after her.**

_**-Theme Song:** _ _**“Fly” by Jars of Clay** _ **— This is another song about being separated from someone, and I think the intention might have been for the context of death, but I actually really like the tone it takes when you look past that and apply it to Tobey. It starts with a somber sort of acceptance** **… 'I have to let go.' But then it turns that feeling on its head and comes back with an equally somber but more defiant confidence… 'I** _**won't** _ **let go.' I love how the metaphorical "I'll fly with you through the night" becomes literal with Tobey in this chapter. X3**


	9. Obdurate

****Obdurate [ **ob** -d _oo_ -rit] – unmoved by persuasion, pity, or tender feelings; stubborn; unyielding.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

_I'm doing the right thing._

I reminded myself of this when I turned around and saw the look on WordGirl's face. She trusted me. Enough even to leave her whole life behind and follow my lead into an uncertain future. It was a heartening, sobering truth. I forced a cordial smile, wondering if her super-hearing could detect the momentary quickening of my heartbeat. I was trying to stay composed, and it was plain to see that she was also… but there was such grief in her eyes that no mask of calm could hide it. None that an honest girl like _her_ could muster, at any rate. Seeing her languish in that broken state reminded me of just how young she was. Too young to be separated from her loved ones.

Separated from loved ones… My throat tightened at the thought.

I took a breath and steeled my resolve against my emotions. I couldn't afford to get lost in sympathy now. There were much bigger things at stake. Still, I couldn't help but wonder what I would I have done if she had refused to come with us. Would I have _forced_ her? Even if it was for the greater good of my people, could that have been justified?

I resisted the sudden urge to look away from her. I knew the answer, but I didn't like to think about it.

Inspecting her more closely, I noticed that she wasn't levitating. Instead, she was standing like a human would, with her feet set against the ground. I wondered why… Perhaps she was seeking comfort in the familiarity, or perhaps the hard surface was helping her to keep steady. Heart still rumbling with compassion for the girl, I alighted on the floor beside her and rested a hand on her shoulder.

“Try not to feel _too_ sad,” I said, willing comfort into my voice, though I doubted she could receive it. “After all, you have no idea what a wonderful life awaits you back home. You'll be able to hear new languages, read the stories of a thousand worlds—why, we might even be able to find your real family!”

She tensed, and I realized too late how insensitive I might have come across—implying that the Botsfords _weren't_ her real family.

“I think I need to be alone for a while,” she said, turning away so that I couldn't see her face.

“Of course,” I said. I turned to my crew and zeroed in on the one person present who wasn't doing anything of any importance. His eyes stared blankly at the console in front of him like he didn't know or care what was going on around him. He undoubtedly didn't. I hated being forced to rely on a shady character such as him for a tracker, but the sad fact of the matter was that, when looking for someone important and elusive, one often had to rely on people who were _un_ important, yet elusive themselves.

I restrained an indignant huff and instead commanded, “Gray, show her to the sleeping quarters.”

Gray only nodded in acknowledgment, his oily black bangs sweeping across his forehead. Without a word, he levitated out of his seat and meandered toward us, regarding WordGirl with the same dry nonchalance he showed to everyone else. Funny… That apathy of his was the thing I disliked most about him, and yet right now I almost envied him for it. It would be so much easier to carry out if I could simply not care about the pain I caused along the way.

“This way,” said Gray, cocking his head toward the corridor behind me and floating past without so much as making sure that WordGirl was coming.

I frowned after him in disapproval, but WordGirl didn't seem to mind. She alighted on the floor, allowing her monkey to hop up on her shoulders, then quietly drifted after Gray.

Lost in thought, I stared after her until she disappeared from sight.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

I floated behind my escort in a daze, my breathing shallow, and my movements bordering on mechanical. Huggy gave a concerned squeak from his perch on my back, but I didn't respond. Despite my weeks of preparation, I was having a hard time getting my heart and my head on the same page with what was happening. No matter what I told myself, a small part of me just couldn't accept this as real, and another rather big part of me kept conjuring up irrational, unhelpful feelings.

I felt alone, even though there were at least seven other people aboard the ship. I felt lost, even though I knew exactly where I was going. I felt confused, even though I understood my circumstances just fine.

_What's wrong with me?_

When I looked up, the man Darix had called Gray was staring back at me. I tried to smile, and he smiled back... though for some reason his smile looked almost... scrutinizing.

_Get a grip, Becky! You're just imagining things._

Gray led me into the sleeping quarters, and I was smacked in the face yet again with how different this ship was from mine. I wasn't sure how much of this was due to my decorating preferences and how much was simply because this was a different kind of ship than the one that became my secret hideout. The contrast was still obvious.

Although the room's walls were red like the rest of the ship's corridors, the dim lighting and bunks lining the walls reminded me a little of a military barracks. The only real thing in the way of aesthetics was a few pictures on the wall—photos of the crew's family members, I guessed. I wondered with a pang of compassion how long it had been since the people aboard this ship had seen their own families.

Before I could even thank him, Gray briskly turned to leave.

“Hold on,” I called out.

He turned to face me, raising his eyebrows—and I immediately forgot what it was I wanted to say. _Was_ there something? Or was it just that suddenly, for whatever strange reason, I didn't want him to leave?

“You wanted to be alone?” Gray questioned.

My cheeks warmed. I _had_ said that, hadn't I? I took a breath and tried my best to reclaim my wits and climb out of my funk. I wasn't going to make myself feel better by moping around. I needed to get to know my fellow Lexiconians and try to make friends with them… even if they ended up seeing me as a little strange.

“I don't really want to be _alone_ ,” I admitted, sheepishly reaching up to rub the back of my neck. “I just… don't really want to be around a lot of people.”

Gray blinked, his expression unchanging, then shrugged and floated over to one of the bunk beds and promptly lay down. He lifted his forearm to rest against his head and closed his eyes as though he'd forgotten I was there.

I stood in place for a moment, wondering what I should do. I glanced over my shoulder at Captain Huggyface, who raised his arms with a confused squeal. Evidently, he was just as baffled as I was. Having no other ideas, I drifted over to Gray and sat quietly on the bunk across from his. Huggy hopped down from my back and sat beside me. I waited, hoping he would say or do— _something_ if I sat there long enough, but he just continued to lie there.

_He couldn't have actually fallen asleep, could he?_

I heaved an experimental sigh. No response. I sighed again, louder, and this time Huggy joined me.

Gray didn't move or even open his eyes, but he did speak. “If it's conversation you're looking for, you should know that I'm not very personable.”

_Personable._

I smiled. That was just the sort of word I would have needed to define for someone if I was back on Earth. On Lexicon, everyone would have the same vocabulary powers as me, so it was unlikely I’d ever run into someone there who needed help with a word. My heart felt suddenly heavy again as I wondered if my days of defining words were actually over.

“That’s okay,” I said, trying to reassure myself as much as Gray. “I’m used to being around people who aren’t personable.”

My sidekick gave an offended-sounding grunt, and I chuckled for the first time since leaving Earth. “I didn't mean _you_ , Huggy. I was talking about people like—”

 _People like Tobey_.

No sooner than his name came to mind, my grief resurfaced with sharp intensity. A knot formed in my throat, and my eyes stung.

Gray opened one curious eye, glancing up at me, and I realized I had stopped mid-sentence. Huggy chirped with concern, dashing my frail hope that my breakdown wouldn't be obvious. Loath to make a bad first impression, I mustered a simple, “Um—excuse me,” and flew out of the room without looking back.

 

« … »

 

Somehow I found myself back at the cargo bay. Huggy caught up with me, gracious and wise enough not to say anything.

The doors opened automatically when we approached them and I drifted into the huge room, hoping to lose myself in the aisles and shelves filling up the enormous room. Instead, I found myself standing in front of the main hatch that I'd come through to board the ship. I stroked the hard metal gate, staring wistfully. Just a short while ago my home and family had been on the other side of this door. Now there was nothing beyond it but empty space and a growing distance between me and everyone I loved.

No longer able to hold myself together, I slumped against the door and crumpled into a limp bundle on the floor, letting my tears flow freely.

A hand rested softly on my shoulder, and a familiar voice said out of nowhere, “Don't cry.”

Huggy shrieked, I gasped, and my heart leaped in my chest as I looked up. “Tobey!”  
I couldn't believe it… He was here! I was so happy, I could hardly contain myself.

I bolted upright and moved to throw my arms around him, but stopped short when the gravity of the situation hit me late.

“What are you _doing_ here?” I yelled, my smile snapping into a scowl and my open arms falling at my sides in angry fists. “Of all the crazy, harebrained, irresponsible—I can't believe you stowed away on this ship!”

“I came for you,” Tobey explained simply.

The happy feeling rose up in me again, and I squelched it immediately. I couldn't let myself be moved by this stunt of his. However sweet his intentions may have been, he was crossing a very dangerous line. I frowned and angrily demanded, “Wait, did you _plan_ on this?”

“No, this wasn't premeditated at all,” Tobey promised. “When you were leaving I just sort of... made up my mind on the spot.”

“Tobey, stowing away on an alien ship that's going to a planet in another solar system isn't the type of decision you make on the spot!”

“Becky, _listen_ to me! I have a bad feeling about this.”

“Yeah, so do I!”

“No, I mean about _this_ ,” he said earnestly, gesturing around him. “I'm starting to think these people might not be trustworthy.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, calming my voice.

Tobey explained, “When I first came aboard, I overheard two crew members talking about you. They called you 'the girl.'”

I blinked. Was he serious? After a moment of vainly waiting for him to say more, I finally muttered, “So?”

“ _So,_ ” Tobey repeated with greater emphasis, “don't you think it's strange after all the fuss Darix made about how important you are that they would just call you 'the girl.' It's not like they don't know _both_ your names.”

“Tobey, I'm a girl! Hasn't anyone ever called you 'that boy'?”

“Of course,” Tobey conceded, pointedly adding, “when they're _angry_ with me.”

Huggy interjected in a panic, squawking loudly, and I gasped with worry.

“What do you mean, there's no oxygen on the ship?!”

“Wait, what?” Tobey said, sounding confused.

Huggy chirped his explanation, using multiple hand gestures that were apparently just as lost on Tobey as his chimp-speak. When he was finished, Tobey looked at me and helplessly said, “Translation?”

I swallowed nervously. “He says that since Lexiconians don't need oxygen, their ships aren't equipped with life support systems.”

Tobey looked flabbergasted and blinked at me. “But… I'm breathing oxygen right now.”

Huggy explained further, and I continued to translate. “This ship was on Earth for over two weeks. Enough oxygen must've diffused into the air inside to keep a human alive for a while.” I paused and shot Tobey a disapproving look as I added with strong emphasis, “Lucky for _you_.”

I sighed, mentally preparing for my inevitable encounter with Darix when I'd have to explain that we had to waste fuel backtracking because my crazy friend stowed away on the ship. “At least we know you're safe for a while. Stay here while I go talk to Darix. We've got to turn the ship around before we get any farther away from—”

“Wait,” Tobey exclaimed, grabbing my arm just as I was about to fly away. “Becky, you can't tell them I'm here!”

Was he kidding? I reigned in my frustration, remembering how glad I'd been to see him… for the first second, at least.

“Sorry, Tobey,” I said, trying to sound understanding. “I know you don't want to get in trouble, but we need to get you back to Earth.”

“I'm not going back.”

My eyes flew open, and I looked at him in fierce surprise. He _had_ to be kidding this time… right?

“What did you say?” I asked.

Tobey crossed his arms and firmly stated, “I'm not going back to Earth.”

My mouth fell open. “Tobey, that's crazy! You can't go with me to Lexicon! I don't even know if humans can _survive_ on Lexicon! And you heard Huggy! This ship is a death trap for you! We don't even know how long the oxygen from Earth will last.”

“I don't care,” Tobey said. His tone was dead-serious. “I'm not going back. At least not until I've checked out Darix's story. Just… give me a chance to look into this. Please?

“So you're asking me to keep you a secret from this crew so that you can spy on them while your oxygen runs out?”

“Exactly.”

I sighed in morose resignation, pinching the bridge of my nose. Why was he still so stubborn about the stupidest things? I thought he was past this. I knew that look in his eyes, though. I used to see it all the time, but I'd only rarely seen it since he gave up villainy. His eyes were set with unflinching, dogged determination. Without a single word they effectively communicated the message, 'My mind is made up, and there is absolutely _nothing_ you can do to change it.'

“All right, _fine,_ ” I reluctantly conceded. “Just… try not to do anything too reckless, okay?”

“Okay,” Tobey agreed, and I solemnly floated away with a dumbfounded Captain Huggyface still riding on my back.

I couldn't believe this was happening. I couldn't believe he'd followed me into space and refused to return to Earth, even though it was putting his life in danger. I couldn't believe he… cared that much… about being with me.

I was terrified to think of what might happen to him, but deep down inside, a small, selfish part of me was happy that he had come.

 

« ... »

 

 _Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,_ _I will fear no evil;_

_For You are with me;_

— _Psalm 23:4_

 

* * *

 

**Author's Notes:**

**-** _**Darix's POV** _ _**—** _ **I hope this viewpoint shift wasn't too confusing for anyone. Originally, I never planned on going into Darix's head, but my sister suggested I do the beginning of this chapter from his point of view, and the allure of this idea was too tempting for me to resist. Darix is a fascinating character to me, and I liked the idea of giving my readers a little glimpse at what makes him tick. :)**

 **-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“Oxygen” by Thousand Foot Krutch—** _ **I love this song, and since it's called 'Oxygen,' I really wanted it to fit. Maybe it's just that silly bias talking, but I really do think the lyrics are at least a** _**somewhat** _ **fitting representation of how Tobey feels about Becky, and why he's willing to risk even his own life to make sure she's safe.**


	10. Skulduggery

**Foreword:**

**Oy, I sure dropped the ball on updating this story, didn't I? *_* I just have waaaaay too much fun getting into the Christmas rush. Sorry about that. ^^' I don't know if anyone is actually following TTGH as I post it here on AO3, but in case anyone is, I'll make it up to you by posting five chapters at once.**

 

**Man, I _love_ having the whole story finished. X3 Merry Christmas, everyone! :D**

 

* * *

 

Skulduggery [skuhl- **duhg** - _uh_ -ree] – dishonorable proceedings; mean dishonesty or trickery.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

I composed myself as I reentered the bridge, pondering over what I was going to say to Darix. I may have promised Tobey I wouldn't tell anyone about him, but he was brain-dead if he thought I was going to just sit back and forget about this oxygen thing. As it turned out, Darix wasn't even there. Gray was back in his place at his console, a few other crew members mulled about, and a stern-faced woman with straight brown hair sat at the command station, but there was no sign of the captain.

“Where is Darix?” I asked

All eyes turned to me, and the acting captain's no-nonsense expression melted into a friendly smile. “The captain has retired to his quarters,” she reported. “However, he requested you join him in the medical bay for some preliminary testing once you're up to it. Are you feeling any better?”

“Yes, much better,” I lied, rolling straight into my first question before I could start to feel guilty. “Um, I was wondering what kind of recreational stuff there is on this ship. Like—I don't know, maybe books, TV, games… escape pods?”

The woman raised an eyebrow, her smile melting away just as abruptly as her serious stare had. “Did you just throw in 'escape pods' with books, television, and games?”

“Just curious,” I replied with a smile that I hoped didn't appear nervous.

She gave me a confused look, but pointed to a blank screen across the room and answered in a friendly tone, “Well, there's an empty console over there. The system wasn't designed for recreational use, but I suppose you could play Pong.”

“They have Pong on Lexicon?” I interjected, my worry momentarily replaced by surprise.

“Of course. It's the universal pastime,” the woman said with a nod, her smile returning. “We also have a small library three doors down from here on the left, and there are plenty of reading materials in the ship's computer database. I'm afraid there aren't any escape pods.”

My heart sank, the worry roaring back with double the intensity. “But, what do you do if something happens to the ship?”

The brown-haired woman gave me a tolerant look. “We can fly at the speed of sound,” she patiently explained, “And we have no need for any particular atmosphere.”

“Oh… right,” I muttered, staring at the floor. Well, this was less than ideal. No time to dwell on it, though. I righted myself, mirrored the acting captain's smile, and tried to sound casual as I asked, “Um, do you know how long the oxygen we picked up from Earth will last?”

Now the poor lady looked _really_ confused, along with all the other crew members present, who were beginning to stare. “That's an—odd question.”

I swallowed, desperately trying to think of an excuse. “Oh, um, I was just curious because… because Captain Huggyface has gotten used to breathing oxygen and he gets really nervous when there isn't any. I haven't been able to take him into space for the past few years. He just goes completely stir-crazy.”'

Huggy frowned at me and gave a disapproving groan.

The acting captain nodded, still looking a little bewildered, and turned to the control panel beside her chair. She fiddled with it for a moment, then looked back up at me and reported, “Well, according to the atmospheric readings here, the oxygen should last about ten hours.”

I bit the inside of my lip. Ten hours? I wasn't sure how fast we were going, but I couldn't imagine us reaching Lexicon in so little time.

_What should I do? Should I tell them about Tobey now?_

I had promised him I wouldn't, and with a solid ten hours, it was possible for us to turn around later and bring him back to Earth _before_ the oxygen ran out. Still…

“He should be fine,” the woman said. I almost jumped, thinking for a second that she was talking about Tobey. Thankfully I noticed her looking at Huggy before I blurted out something stupid. “Ten hours should be long enough to get to the station.”

I blinked in surprise. “Station? I thought we were going to Lexicon.”

“Not directly. We _assume_ you're completely immune to the Logorrhea virus, but we aren't going to risk exposing you to it before we know for certain. We'll keep you on a quarantined space station until we're sure it's safe for you on our homeworld.”

“Oh,” I murmured, feeling another rush of melancholy. I had hoped that soon I would be on Lexicon, meeting other kids my age and making new friends. The thought reminded me of my _old_ friend, however, and I refocused my attention. I couldn't dwell on my own feelings right now. I had to make sure that Tobey was going to be safe.

“And, there will be oxygen on the station, right? For Huggy, I mean.”

“Yes,” the woman replied. “We use a great deal of it for our chemical research there.”

My pounding heart eased, and I wiped my forehead. “Whew! That's a relief. Right, Huggy?”

Captain Huggyface forced a smile and gave an embarrassed thumbs-up.

Her tone and smile as casual as ever, the woman added, “Of course, it's hard to say whether the residual oxygen from Earth will last the _full_ trip.”

My breath caught in my throat. “Wait—what?!”

“The station is close to ten hours away, and these atmospheric sensors aren't perfectly accurate,” she calmly explained. “It's possible that your—Huggy—may need to endure a little discomfort just before we arrive.”

I felt my heartbeat quickening again, and my sidekick clearly didn't need to fake being upset. “But—couldn't we get there any _faster_?”

“We're already at the maximum safe velocity,” the acting captain said soothingly. She again seemed surprised and confused at my behavior, and I wished like crazy that I could just _tell_ her why I was acting so nervous. “There's really no need to worry, WordGirl. I believe we'll arrive before the oxygen runs out, but even if we don't, it's not as though your friend will die without it.”

She said that with total nonchalance and a bit of a chuckle. She was trying to ease my nerves, I could tell. Ironically, her words were enough to make me cringe in terror.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

I floated into the cargo bay carrying Huggy and checked for crew members before I slipped over to the secluded corner where Tobey was.

“Bad news, Tobey,” I announced despondently. “I asked about—”

I paused mid-sentence when I saw what Tobey was up to. He was standing in front of a computer console on the wall, pushing buttons and glancing back and forth between the screen and his pocket supercomputer which he held in his right hand.

“What are you _doing_?” I asked in shock. Not an hour aboard this ship and he was already messing with the technology without permission. Was he _trying_ to get himself in trouble?

“I've determined that the oxygen in the ship should last about ten hours, which is about how long it will take us to get to our destination, so I should be fine,” he calmly explained without taking his eyes off his computer's card-sized screen.

I rolled my eyes, frustrated and a little annoyed. “Brilliant, Tobey. I never could have figured that out on my own.”

“Yes, well, we can't all be geniuses,” Tobey said with a cocky smile, tugging at the front of his collar.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and heaved a flustered sigh. How could he act so casual about something that was worrying me sick? Was he honestly that brave? Or was it just the old arrogance from his villain days coming back to haunt us both?

“Tobey, please tell me you're not hacking into the ship's computer.”

Tobey was silent for a suspiciously long time before he said, “Okay. I'm not hacking into the computer.”

I paused for a moment, narrowing my eyes at him. “You've already done it, haven't you?”

“Look at this,” he bubbled in excitement, grabbing my hand and pulling me over to the console. “When I started searching for information I hit a wall because all the data was in Lexiconian, but once I figured out how to connect my computer to the ship's computer wirelessly, I was able to write a program that interfaces with the Lexicon Language Database and translates all the output into English.”

I blinked and made a conscious effort not to show how impressed I was. The last thing Tobey needed right now was encouragement. “Okay, so you can get the system data in English. How does that make it all right for you to hack into the ship's computer?”

“I said I'd be investigating,” Tobey said. “What do you expect me to do? Go around interviewing the crew members?”

I opened my mouth to retort but found nothing to say. He had a point there. I could hardly expect Tobey to go about an investigation the way Scoops would, especially considering the circumstances.

“Look, I _promise_ I'm not touching any of the ship's functions,” Tobey said, gesturing an oath with his hand. “I'm just looking for information that suggests these people aren't being honest with us.”

“You're also looking for information that suggests they _are_ being honest, I hope.”

“Sure, whatever.”

He turned back to his computer screen while text continued flitting by on the console. I made a fist and held in a grumble, then took a deep breath and summoned my warmer feelings in hope of keeping myself calm. It didn't do any good to get angry at Tobey. I'd learned that long ago. All I could do was gently try to coax out his better nature—while constantly reminding myself that he did indeed have one.

“Listen, Tobey,” I said in a soft voice. “I'm really touched that you're so concerned for my safety, but you've got to understand that I'm concerned for _yours_. You have ten hours of oxygen on this ship, and after that the best case scenario is you get in huge trouble for stowing away on a Lexiconian spaceship and hacking into its computer. I mean, I don't even know what the punishment for that is!”

“Well _I_ don't know who this Darix really is, or if anything he told us is true,” Tobey argued.

“The fact that he's not here right now throwing you in a holding cell is proof that he was telling the truth about my super-hearing, isn't it?”

For once it was Tobey who choked on his words. “Yes… well…”

“See?” I said hopefully. Could it be that I was finally getting through to him? “There's no way Darix is secretly plotting against me. You saw how devastated he was when he talked about the victims of the Logorrhea virus.”

“Okay, _fine_ ,” Tobey said, already back with his former annoying spark, “but how do you know there aren't any traitors in his crew? If you're really as valuable as Darix says, who's to say there's not some shady opportunist aboard this ship who wants you for his own selfish reasons?”

This time, I hesitated before speaking. “An opportunist?”

“Yes, an opportunist. Someone who's always looking for a chance to get ahead.”

“I know what an opportunist is, Tobey!”

“And what if there's one on this ship? Someone who sees you as a tool and isn't afraid to use you like one?”

I kept quiet for a moment, frowning in consideration. “I… I never thought of that before.”

Huggy suddenly chimed in with a string of urgent chirps and squeaks.

“Well, that's true,” I said, “but it doesn't necessarily mean—”

“Hold it. What did he say?” asked Tobey.

“He says he thinks it's odd that this is a battle class ship and not a patrol or exploration vessel.”

“Oh, that _is_ weird.”

“Maybe a little, but…” I started thinking about this, then snapped myself out of it. I couldn't let myself be drawn into Tobey's paranoid speculation. “Wait, this is an important mission. They probably sent a battleship to make sure I was brought safely back to Lexicon.”

“But you don't know that for sure, do you?”

I sighed and bit my lip. “Okay, okay,” I reluctantly conceded. “Do what you have to, just... be careful.”

“I will,” Tobey promised, though the determination in his voice wasn't reassuring.

I sighed and floated toward the door, remembering that Darix had asked me to check in with him when I was feeling better. I wasn't exactly feeling better, but I certainly didn't want him to get worried and come looking for me.

I halted in the air when I noticed that Huggy wasn't following, and turned around to see him looking intently at the data flying across the screen of Tobey's hacked console.

“Are you coming, Huggy?”

He looked at me, pointed at the screen, and chirped.

“Oh… Okay. You can stay here if you want,” I said nervously.

I morosely left the room alone, with dozens of questions and worries swirling in my mind. If Captain Huggyface was starting to share Tobey's suspicions...

Things were getting a lot more serious, whether Tobey was right or not.

 

« ... »

 

_Let your eyes look straight ahead; fix your gaze directly before you. Give careful thought to the paths for your feet and be steadfast in all your ways. Do not turn to the right or the left; keep your foot from evil._

— _Proverbs 4:25-27_

 

* * *

 

**Author's Notes:**

**-** _**The Physiology of An Alien Monkey** _ _**—** _ **Okay, so I finally managed to watch 'WordGirl Makes A Mistake.' Meh, it wasn't that great, but it did give me some tidbits of canon that really would have been helpful to know** _**before** _ **I took on this massive project. DX For example, Huggy is shown going into space with an oxygen mask, implying that, while Lexiconians have no need for oxygen, Lexiconian monkeys** _**do** _ **. Needless to say, that crucial little detail flies in the face of a lot of my plot elements for this story. Since I can't really rework the story around this canon ball (haha, I'm so punny XP), and I** _**certainly** _ **don't want to just scrap the story altogether, I'm just gonna ignore it and move on. In my headcanon, Lexiconian monkeys don't need oxygen. So there. *huffs and crosses arms***

 **-** _**Language Barrier** _ _**—** _ **It's always frustrating for me to decide what to do in stories like this one where it's sensible for other languages to be spoken but the story really needs to be in English. #_# In cartoons like WordGirl, it's sort of an accepted law of the universe that everyone speaks English** **—even aliens visiting from other planets (*cough*KidMath &MissPower*cough*). However, for the purposes of the story and because it just makes sense, I really wanted to play around with the idea of there being a 'Lexiconian' language that is the mother tongue of WordGirl's race. I also ascribe to the idea that instinctively understanding languages is one of their standard superpowers—an idea supported by the fact that WordGirl's vocabulary is affected by exposure to Lexonite in 'WordGirl Makes A Mistake.' I suppose, then, that it doesn't make much sense for all the Lexiconians on the ship to be speaking in English now that only fellow Lexiconians are around** **… =[ Just so you know, I do have some weak reasoning to explain this, which I plan to reveal later in the story.**


	11. Dysphoria

_ **Hey, readers! This chapter references the episodes 'Best Fanclub Meeting Ever' and 'Guess Who's Coming to Thanksgiving Dinner.'** _

  

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Dysphoria [dis- **fawr** -ee- _uh_ , - **fohr** -] – a state of dissatisfaction, anxiety, restlessness, or fidgeting.

 

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I typed up yet another set of fixed variables and methodically fed them into my experimental search algorithm, grumbling in frustration. I hadn't realized when I'd started this venture how many terabytes of data there were on the ship's computer. If I couldn't find a way to narrow down the list, I'd run out of oxygen long before I ran out of files to snoop through. Everything that looked promising was top-secret and buried under layers of security protocols. I could probably decrypt them if I really tried, but I didn't want to break my promise to Becky… at least not yet. Not when there was still plenty of unprotected data to look through.

A robot activated with a loud whir and climbed off the rack beside me. Becky's monkey squealed in surprise and snapped into a defensive posture. I almost rolled my eyes at him, but then remembered that I'd done the same thing the first time I'd seen one of those things wake up.

“Relax,” I said, “They're just automated service bots. I think they're in charge of transporting cargo.”

The monkey eased out of his battle stance and watched the robot carefully as it rolled over to a nearby shelf. It pulled a container down with its familiar noodle-like arms, hoisted it over its head, and nestled it into a form-fitting repository on its boxy body. Then it quietly trundled away without paying us any mind.

“Told you,” I said, and the monkey shrugged at me as if to say, 'you can never be too careful.'

Watching that robot had reminded me of something, though. After my first hour or so of hiding I'd noticed that no one but Becky ever seemed to visit the cargo bay, which might explain why it had the aesthetic charm of a graveyard on a rainy day. The ship, I suspected, was designed to be run with a skeleton crew while all the grunt work like hauling supplies to and from the cargo hold was handled by robots—which meant that this was my kind of place.

Well, minus the prospect of impending suffocation, anyway.

I almost jumped in surprise when the monkey hopped up onto my back and grabbed my shoulders.

“Hey, get off!” I snapped, pushing him away. He landed on his feet but looked up at me like he was shocked and maybe even a little angry.

“Sorry,” I said, softening with remorse. “I forgot Becky lets you do that.”

He folded his arms and gave a series of sharp squeaks.

I raised an eyebrow and muttered with sarcasm that was probably uncalled for, “I don't know how to tell you this, but, uh… I don't speak space-monkey.”

He pursed his lips in an annoyed frown, then stretched out his arm and gestured over his head with his hand. He was probably trying to tell me that he was too short to read the panel.

I grumbled with disgust and turned my back to him. “Fine, go ahead.”

I forced myself to hold still as the monkey climbed me like a tree and peered over my shoulder. Despite my annoyance, I heard that still small voice inside me saying that I should be grateful. If Becky had her way I'd be shot back to Earth in an escape pod, but her sidekick was actually kinda on the same page as me about this. If nothing else, he was another voice of concern that she might be more inclined to listen to—albeit a voice that only she could understand.

He chirped suddenly and pointed at a spot on the console.

“You found something?” I said excitedly, looking down at my handheld's screen to get the translation. My spirits wilted in disappointment when I saw what it was. “That's nothing. It's just the ship's hailing frequency.”

The monkey squawked insistently, pointing at the number while shaking his head… It was almost like he was trying to say that wasn't what he was talking about, and yet it was. Now _that_ was maddeningly unhelpful.

“What?” I asked. “What does their hailing frequency tell us?”

He made a series of noises that could almost be conversational, then pointed between me and himself. I raised a confused eyebrow, and he gave a frustrated huff. He held up both his hands like puppets, opening and closing them in sequence.

“Talking?”

He smiled and nodded, gesturing for me to go on.

“Uh… speaking? Conversing? Communicating?”

He chirped happily and clapped his hands.

“Communicating. As in, communication?” The light bulb went on, and I blinked in realization. “You're saying we should look at the ship's communication logs!”

He gave me a thumbs-up, and I smiled at him with impressed satisfaction. The communication logs could give us any number of hints as to the sincerity of the ship's crew.

“Good idea,” I complimented. “You're pretty smart for a monkey.”

He gave me an insulted look, and something else hit me. Even knowing that Captain Huggyface was an alien from another planet just like WordGirl, I'd always seen him as… just a monkey. I didn't even bother switching to my British accent when I talked around him. I knew that all his chirps and squawks were actually a real language that I just wasn't able to understand, but for some reason, I had never completely wrapped my head around the idea that he was a sentient being with as much intelligence as any human. All of a sudden, I felt bad… and kind of stupid. I really needed to work on how I treated him.

“I'm sorry. That was condescending,” I apologized, resisting the sudden, irrational instinct to use my accent. “Thanks for all your help, uh…”

The monkey got my tongue, and I felt even more stupid as I realized that I didn't even know what to call him. Captain Huggyface? Huggy? Bob? Becky called him all three of those, so I had no idea which made the most sense for _me_ to call him.

“Um… can I just call you Bob?” I asked. It was the only option of the three that I didn't feel embarrassed just _thinking_ about saying aloud.

He—Bob—chirped what sounded like a yes, and I awkwardly muttered, “Okay, Bob… Let's do this.”

As I browsed for files that contained communication records, another file caught my eye. I backtracked to it and read the filename: 'Cargo Manifest.'

I smiled, feeling a spark of mischievous pleasure that I'd long since trained myself to repress. I started downloading the file to my computer, and Bob gave me a questioning look.

“Hold on a second,” I said, setting him down on the floor. I went over to the nearest shelf and pulled down a container that was about knee-high to me, then carried it over to Bob and set it down in front of the console.

“Could you check the communication logs while I—” I glanced out at the tantalizing trove all around me. “—while I work on something else?”

Bob grumbled in disapproval, crossing his arms.

“Oh come on, monk—I mean Bob. Suppose we find out these guys _are_ lying and they want Becky for some underhanded reason. What good does it do us if we don't have anything we can use to defend ourselves?”

Bob moaned uncertainly, but I could tell he was considering my point. I took his wavering as a blessing, and wandered off to explore the island. Now that I had a treasure map it would be easier, and a lot more fun.

 

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The medical bay was almost as big as the bridge. It _seemed_ to be, at least. Despite the worry for Tobey so fresh and potent in my mind, I couldn't help but look around and marvel at how little the place reminded me of sets I'd seen in science fiction movies. The lighting was bright but not direct, and would have created a pleasant atmosphere if there was more in the way of colorful surroundings to be illuminated by it. Clearly the chamber had been designed with practicality and maneuverability in mind, as the place was surprisingly empty. The tabletop array of medical tools one would expect to find in an infirmary was nowhere to be seen, and the only beds present in the room were the one I was sitting on and one other where Darix sat across from me… although, an otherwise bare wall sported several bed-shaped outlines, hinting that the beds could be retracted out of sight to make still _more_ space. Even the drawers and cabinets for storage were flush with the wall, invading the interior of the room only when opened by the doctor, who was currently rummaging around for equipment.

I shuddered, remembering with sudden discomfort the reason I was here. My fingers tightened almost involuntarily around the bag of wasabi peas that he'd given me to help replenish the salt in my blood.

Darix gave me a sympathetic look, which quickly shifted into an encouraging smile. “So, is there anything you'd like to talk about or ask me? You are returning to a homeworld you haven't seen since infancy, after all.”

I tried to return his smile, but it died on my lips. He was trying to distract me from thinking about the procedure, the way nurses back home did when I got shots, and I really did appreciate that. However, a pessimistic part of me preferred to let the thought of getting stuck with a needle distract me from thinking about how one of my best friends was running out of oxygen.

Absentmindedly I looked up at the wall adjacent to my bed and noticed that there was actually a second groove in the metal running parallel to the one that must have opened for the bed.

“What's that?” I asked, pointing.

Darix looked up, and he darkened almost imperceptibly before he answered. “That deploys an airtight quarantine bubble… in case of…”

“Oh,” I mumbled, feeling sad now on top of worried and nervous.

“Well, so far I'm failing at making you feel better,” Darix muttered sheepishly, clasping his hands together and resting them on his knees. “Are you sure there isn't something more… palatable that you'd like to talk about?”

He had to ask. If only the obvious answer weren't something I was sworn to secrecy about.

The doctor approached at last, carrying an assortment of bandages, rubber tubes, and other medical stuff in one arm while wheeling forward a trashcan-sized machine with his free hand. When he stopped at my bedside he arranged his supplies on the flat surface of the machine, then turned to me holding a bottle and a small instrument that reminded me of a stick with a cotton ball stuck to the end.

“Could I trouble you to roll up your sleeve?” he said with a polite grin.

I obliged and sat quietly, resisting the urge to fidget as the man dabbed the inside of my elbow with cold antiseptic.

“Have you ever had blood drawn before?” the doctor asked in a calm, soothing tone.

“No,” I answered, forcing myself to look away from the needle I'd just noticed among the doctor's gathered things.

“It's okay to be nervous,” Darix comforted. “Everyone is the first time. I've found that it helps to talk about something that makes you happy.”

 _What makes me happy_ _…_

That wouldn't do much good. Everything that made me happy was back on Earth, which meant that talking about it would only make me sad. Even glancing down at the packaged snack in my lap made me think of my mom's Peas De Rèsistance.

Out of nowhere, Darix added, “Why don't we talk about your friend Tobey? He's special to you, isn't he?”

My heart skipped a beat and I gasped, and just then I felt the needle pierce my arm. I flinched with a squeal of pain, yet felt relieved to have a subterfuge for my surprise.

“Good distraction, Captain,” said the doctor as he carefully strapped the needle and its attached tube in place. I had to admire his skill, especially since I could barely even feel the needle in my arm now that it was there, but I didn't let that stop me from shooting him a flustered glare.

He gave an unrepentant chuckle and turned to study the digital readout on the screen in front of him. “Forgive me if my approach is a little mean. Trust me, though, it would have hurt more if you'd been expecting it.”

“The brain is frustrating that way,” Darix added.

“I guess you're right,” I muttered, gritting my teeth and closing my eyes. “But I probably shouldn't talk about Tobey right now.”

“I understand,” said Darix. “Complicated relationship.”

 _You have no idea_ _…_

I looked up at Darix's kind eyes, thinking about how badly I wanted to confide in him, and suddenly remembered something Tobey-related that I actually _could_ talk about. “Oh! On that note, though, I've been meaning to apologize for how he treated you when you first arrived.”

“That's quite all right,” Darix said, waving dismissively. “He actually reminded me of my son somewhat.”

Having said that, the smile evaporated from Darix's face and with my super-hearing I was able to notice a slight quickening of his heartbeat. I got the sense that he was regretting what he'd just said, or at least wondering if he should have said it. Even so, I couldn't resist the curiosity to prod. “Your son?”

The doctor gave the captain a thoughtful, perhaps even sympathetic look. Darix breathed deeply, then nodded fondly. He stood quiet for a long moment with a distant look on his face before he replied. “He's about your age. He stayed back on Lexicon when I left to find a way to stop the Logorrhea virus. Sharp as a fresh knife, that boy, and stubborn to boot. He refused to leave Lexicon when the outbreak started, saying he wouldn't leave his people to save his own life if he could help them by staying.”

Darix's eyes as he talked about his son beamed with pride and devotion, and his words were stirring. He _did_ sound like Tobey—only kinder and more compassionate. “He sounds wonderful.”

“Indeed he… is. You would like him.”

“When will I get to meet him?” I asked, surprised at how excited I was by the prospect. It was about time I had something to look forward to about my new home.

Darix's smile wilted, and he took a sorrowful breath. “Well, that depends on you.”

“On me?”

“Well, not on you per se…” Darix sighed and looked wistfully down at the floor. “More on… how quickly we're able to work your blood into a cure.”

I gasped.

 _No way._ _Darix's son_ _… has the Logorrhea virus?_

The necessity of my purpose here had never been so clear.

 

« ... »

 

_Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you._

— _1 Peter 5:6-7_

 

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**Author's Notes:**

**-** _**Tobey Speaks Space-Monkey** _ _**—** _ **I hope I'm not the only one who is utterly enamored by the image of Tobey and Huggy trying to communicate using improvised sign language. :3 Theirs is another relationship that the show never really explores, but that I think is just bursting with cuteness potential. I must say, I really like how their interactions are coming out in this story.**

 **-** _**B-B-Blood?!** _ _**—** _ **I feel I should probably say something about Becky getting her blood drawn since many of you folks reading have probably never donated blood and thus might think that scene was creepier than I intended. It helps that I'm not particularly afraid of needles, but I've always found donating blood to be a rewarding, oftentimes even comfortable experience. They even give you snacks! :D I tried to convey my own positivity in this scene, but also thought it would make sense for Becky to be nervous about it. I completely understand if some people are just creeped-out by the idea, even if I did an okay job presenting it.**

 **-** _**Wasabi Peas / Peas De R** _ _**èsistance—** _ **These are light references to 'Best Fanclub Meeting Ever,' which revealed that peas are WordGirl's favorite food, and 'Guess Who's Coming to Thanksgiving Dinner,' in which Becky's mom made a sculpture of Napoleon out of peas, which she affectionately called her 'Peas De R** **èsistance.' XP I don't know if Becky likes spicy food per se, but I figure it's a distinct possibility considering the dish her dad prepares in 'Dinner or Consequences.' Do they actually have wasabi peas on Lexicon, you ask? I don't imagine so, but I also don't find it hard to imagine that Darix picked up a few of her favorite snacks before leaving Earth. He's thoughtful that way. ;)**


	12. Muckrake

 Muckrake [ **muhk** -reyk] – to search for and expose real or alleged corruption, scandal, or the like.

  

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My body was tense as I slowly wired the detonator. If this thing blew up in my hands, Becky's wrath would be the least of my worries. The wire slid into place without incident, and I relaxed. Now I just needed to make five or six more of these. I screwed the device's outer casing into place and gently nestled it on the bottom of the crate I'd pillaged for its parts. The little disc-shaped machine was about as thick as my finger and could fit in the palm of my hand, but if my calculations were right, it could explode with enough force to do some _serious_ damage. It was the first thing I'd ever built that I truly hoped I would never have to use.

Halfway through assembling the next one I heard the bay doors opening on the distant end of the room and went still and silent until the welcome sound of Becky's voice announced, “Hey, you two.”

She sounded sad for some reason.

“Becky, we found something,” I said excitedly, abandoning my project on the floor and rushing over to her.

Bob, still standing on the stool I'd set up for him over by the computer console, frowned and shrieked in protest.

“Okay, technically _he_ found it,” I admitted, earning a satisfied smile from the monkey.

Becky didn't even seem to notice me and just stared dejectedly at the console screen. Bob pointed to the list of communication logs and squeaked out his explanation.

“See?” I said as though I'd understood him. “Doesn't it seem strange that _all_ of the ship's recent communications have been to and from the same space station?”

Becky considered this for a moment, then gave a sorrowful sigh. “Well, we are stopping at a space station before Lexicon.”

“Yes, but why would _all_ of the communications be going to _just_ that station? The crew has family and friends on Lexicon, don't they? If this was a legitimate mission that Lexicon commissioned, wouldn't at least one person on this ship be having direct contact with the planet?”

Becky sighed and bit her lip, looking thoughtful for a moment. I held my tongue and dared to hope that she was considering my point. Then, “It is a little strange, but… it still doesn't prove anything.”

My fists clenched in frustration. “Oh, come on, Becky! Even the monk—I mean, even _Bob_ agrees with me on this!”

Becky turned to her sidekick and asked, “Bob, do you think this is proof that there's something shady going on?”

Bob wilted a little and shook his head.

I crossed my arms and snapped, “Traitor!”

“Tobey, don't be like that. There could be any number of legitimate reasons why they would restrict their communications to that space station. It could be a chain of command thing, or that station might just be their assigned contact point…”

I grumbled and looked away. Becky, on the other hand, flew up to me and put a tender hand on my shoulder. “Tobey, I know you don't want to be separated from me, and I'm touched by that, I really am… I'm just concerned that your attachment to me might be clouding your judgment. I think you may be interpreting everything you find in your investigation under the presupposition that Darix and his crew are up to something.”

I narrowed my eyes at her, trying to decide how I felt about what she was saying. As much as I hated her suggestion, it didn't sound ridiculous as I wished it did.

Bob squealed in confusion, and Becky solemnly explained, “A presupposition is something that you decide is true before you have all the information. So if Tobey was convinced that something shady was going on _before_ he started to investigate, that would be his presupposition, and he might only look for evidence that he's right and ignore anything that suggests he might be wrong.”

“That's not what I'm doing,” I snapped. It wasn't, right? I wasn't so petty that I could convince myself of something that wasn't true just to get my way… was I?

Flashbacks from my years as a villain suddenly invaded my mind, and a chill ran down my spine.

“Tell you what,” she cooed gently, “Why don't I ask Darix about the communication logs? I could tell him I stumbled upon it while I was trying to send a message to Earth and act like I'm just curious. I'm sure he has a reasonable explanation.”

“I'm sure he does, too,” I spat suspiciously, “But his explanation doesn't help us if he's _lying_.”

“Why do you just assume he would be lying, Tobey? You're the one who said there might be a traitor on the crew, and if that's the case, I'm sure the Captain would want to—”

She halted mid-sentence and looked past me. “What's that?”

I followed her gaze to the open cargo container I was working with and the unfinished device I was building lying on the floor.

“Nothing yet,” I shrugged.

She flew past me and stared down at my project, then looked inside the open container where I'd been collecting components for it. When she turned back to me, her expression was borderline horrified. “Now you're _stealing_ from them?”

“I'm not _stealing_ ,” I said. “I'm merely—utilizing the resources that are available to me. Nothing I've built has left their possession, technically.”

 _Besides, they're stealing you from me,_ I wished I could add.

“Tobey, I can't _believe_ you! After all this time and you made so much progress… I thought you were better than this by now! I thought you had changed!”

With that she turned and flew away, her last cutting words still ringing in my ears. I stood still and silent, trembling as conflicting emotions surged within me. I felt angry, and at the very person who I was trying to protect. Why didn't she understand? Couldn't she see that I was doing this for _her?_ But at the same time, I also felt a twinge of shame. Becky was losing faith in me. That realization brought tears to my eyes. Her faith in me had been hard won by arduous struggle, and now I was throwing it away. I was doing it for what I thought was a good enough reason, but I was doing it nonetheless. Was it worth it?

I frowned and steeled my emotions. Of course it was worth it. If Becky was in danger, _any_ sacrifice was worth it. Still…

Bob waddled in front of me and looked up into my eyes with a concerned expression.

“What do _you_ want?” I asked sourly.

Bob pointed at the door with a squeak, and I frowned in surprise. “You want me to go after her?”

Bob smacked his forehead and shook his head, then pointed again with a more pronounced squeak. It looked like we were playing charades again.

“Becky?” I guessed.

Bob nodded, then frowned sharply for a split second and made an X with his hands.

“Becky… isn't… mad…?”

Bob smiled and pointed at me.

I blinked in disbelief. “Becky isn't mad at me? How do you figure _that_?”

Bob pointed at the door again, made a frightened face, and then pointed once more at me.

“Becky is… _afraid_ of me?”

Bob shook his head and held up all the fingers on one hand.

“Becky is afraid _for_ me…” I muttered in awe.

With a soulful smile Bob clasped his hands tightly in front of his face, and this time I didn't need to guess what he was trying to say. _“You are her friend. She cares about you.”_

I smiled, strangely heartened by this bizarre one-and-a-half-sided conversation with a sentient monkey. I took a deep breath and forced myself to consider Becky's point of view. If she cared about me so much that my safety mattered more to her than her own, it was no wonder she was hurt and frustrated by my series of rash decisions that were only getting me deeper and deeper in trouble. She was right to worry.

She was… right.

_“I'm just concerned that your attachment to me might be clouding your judgment.”_

_“I thought you were better than this by now! I_ _thought you had changed_ _!_ _”_

I shuddered, and for the first time, I dared to question something that until now I had taken for granted. Was I really doing this… for _her_?

 

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 _Oooooh, that boy! That_ _captious, obstreperous, incorrigible_ _BOY!_

I drifted through the ship in a temper, grumbling to myself in a futile attempt to blow off some steam. How _dare_ he? What was _wrong_ with him? I didn't know if I was madder that Tobey was backsliding from his resolution to be good, or that he was willfully piling up steeper and steeper consequences from which I may not be able to rescue him. What was I supposed to do now? How could I protect him when the biggest threat to his safety was his own stubbornness?

In my frustration, I forgot to watch where I was going, and I collided with someone standing in the corridor.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” I said, looking up.

Gray looked back at me, his expression barely surprised. “Need something?”

“Huh?”

“You seemed to be in a hurry,” Gray clarified. “Can I help you?”

I almost said no, ready to rattle off some vague excuse, but then I remembered the frustration that had caused me to blunder into him in the first place, and the emotion once again took over. I was tired of letting all this dangerous nonsense fester inside me while I tried to pretend nothing was wrong. I wasn't about to expose Tobey just yet, but I needed _some_ kind of direction or reassurance. Some sound council that my mind could lean against. Otherwise, I might go crazy from stress and worry.

“Actually,” I said, twiddling my fingers, “I do have a question I want to ask.”

“Go on,” said Gray.

I took a deep breath, then solemnly blurted out, “What do you do when you want to trust someone, but you can't?”

Gray blinked, his placid face growing even more blank. “Oh. That's—not the kind of question I was expecting.” He turned to the console in front of him and hurriedly pressed a button, clearing the screen. “Why? Is there someone on the crew who you don't trust?”

“No, nothing like that. It's just something that's been on my mind lately.”

It was true enough.

“I see,” Gray murmured, raising a knuckle to his lip in a thoughtful gesture. “Well, I doubt my advice would be very useful to you. For a Lexiconian, I'm not very good with words.”

For some reason, his hesitancy warmed my heart a little, and I found myself randomly inserting, “On Earth, they say that actions speak louder than words.”

Gray gave me an incredulous look, which I returned with a shrug and a sheepish smile. “I never completely understood it myself, but I think there's a good sentiment behind it.”

In a shocking display of emotion, Gray returned my smile with a coy little half-smirk. “All I can say is, I don't think your question is a 'what' question.”

I cocked my head in confusion. “Meaning?”

“You said 'what.' ' _What_ should you do when you can't trust someone you want to trust?' But I think what you really need to be asking is 'why.' _Why_ do you want to trust them? And why _can't_ you?”

I stared dumbfounded at Gray, trying to digest his advice. On the surface, it seemed just as useless as he'd claimed it would be, but at the same time, it rang with truth. I wasn't sure why, but a part of me believed that cryptic little hint just might be the key to figuring out this whole mess with Tobey.

Just then my ears picked up on a sound—a faint, searing noise that was coming from just outside the ship. It kind of sounded like a missile. I didn't even have time to gasp in surprise before the faint noise turned into an explosion, and the whole ship quaked violently.

“What's happening?” I asked, glancing fearfully around.

“The ship's under attack,” Gray announced, and he zipped off down the corridor with no further explanation.

My heart was pounding. An attack? Who would attack us? And why?

The ship shook again, and I put aside my questions in favor of instinct.

“Wait for me!” I shouted after Gray as I jetted after him.

 

« ... »

 

_Uphold me according to your promise, that I may live, and let me not be put to shame in my hope!_

— _Psalm 119:116_

 

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**Author's Notes:**

**-** _**Alexithymia** _ _**—** _ **I had a really hard time capturing Tobey's mental and emotional state in this chapter. What I was going for was a very layered feeling that is somewhat difficult to describe** **… a conflict of interest between his base and better nature, resulting in the disturbing realization that he doesn't know whether he's risking his life because he wants to protect Becky, or just because he wants to keep her close. Is he being selfless, or selfish? Noble or just stupid? And when he's honest with himself, he isn't really sure. I hope that came across okay. :|**

 **-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“Renegade” by Manafest** _ **— This song describes an internal struggle—not about ideals or decisions, but about _motives_. Tobey is realizing that whether the things he's doing are good or doing evil completely depends on ** _**why** _ **he's doing them, and he's beginning to doubt his own motives. He really wants to believe that he's not turning back, that he is doing this for the right reasons, but he can't deny that his history is against him.**


	13. Expostulate

 

Expostulate [ik- **spos** -ch _uh_ -leyt] – to reason earnestly with someone against something that person intends to do or has done; remonstrate.

 

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I burst into the Bridge, where Gray had already taken his post and was frenetically working his panel along with everyone else present. Through the large windshield I could see a large, menacing ship positioned close to ours. A small blast from its hull sent some sort of missile streaking toward us, and seconds later, our ship once more rattled with the impact. The crewmen were all levitating at their stations, so thankfully no one was thrown off balance.

“Hard to port,” Darix commanded, his face awash with urgency and concentration. “See if you can get a clear shot at their shield generators.”

“Yes, sir!” responded the woman at the station behind him.

Gray said nothing, but obediently maneuvered the ship.

“What's going on? Who is that?” I asked instinctively in my panic, realizing a moment too late how poorly the question was timed.

Darix shot me a regretful glance, but he didn't get a chance to answer me. The ship rocked again, more violently this time.

“They sent a feedback pulse along our laser cannon,” reported the woman. “The cannon is badly damaged, but their shields are down.”

Darix smiled victoriously. “Target torpedoes at their power core and fire!”

“Aye, captain. Firing now!”

Two glowing projectiles soared toward the enemy vessel and hit their mark with a baleful blast that I could hear almost too well. A small explosion erupted from the point of impact, followed by two, three, four more—sending out fracture lines in a spider web across the hull.

“We got them,” Darix exclaimed. “Full power to the forward shields! Gray, move us away.”

“Right,” Gray said, and following a deft manipulation of his panel and control stick, the other ship grew smaller in our view as we began to back off.

And then, the whole craft broke apart in a starburst of fire and debris.

My heart tightened in my chest at the sudden, shocking realization that everyone on that ship had just been killed.

“Direct hit. No survivors,” announced the woman at the tactical station, eerily echoing my thoughts.

I looked to Darix, my eyes stinging and my heart pounding. Though the danger had passed, I still felt scared—perhaps now even more so than I had during the battle. What was going on?

Darix heaved a deep sigh, closing his eyes and bowing his head. He bit his lip for a short moment. Then, without looking up, he somberly murmured, “I wish you hadn't witnessed that. Things are hard enough for you already.”

“Darix, what was that about?” I demanded, surprised at how much this one moment of violence had unhinged me.

Darix looked solemn as he turned his eyes up to meet mine. Without a word he left his station and drifted over to me, placing a tender hand on my shoulder. “Come,” he said, “I'll explain everything.”

 

« ... »

 

Quietly, morosely, Darix led me into his personal quarters. I noticed immediately the aesthetic contrast between this room and the one where the rest of the crew slept. Darix clearly had an eye for color and presentation, and while the room wasn't lavishly decorated, it did feel a lot homier than any other I'd seen in the ship. The walls were each a similar shade of blue-gray—similar, but not identical—and they were adorned with various colorful pictures of people and landscapes.

One picture in particular caught my eye, and I nearly gasped for my surprise. Without giving it a second thought, I drifted over to get a better look. The teenage boy in the photograph looked like Tobey. Same bright eyes, same pointy nose, even the same puffy yellow hair, and his exuberant smile was one I'd seen a hundred times. It obviously _wasn't_ Tobey, however. The boy in the picture had darker skin, sharper features, and no glasses. He looked lean and strong and had an energy about him that bespoke confidence, contentment, and indomitable enthusiasm. He was a little more handsome than Tobey, I thought, and immediately felt guilty for it. Still… I just couldn't seem to tear my eyes away from the picture.

“He looks familiar, doesn't he?” muttered Darix, shaking me from my reverie.

I turned to him, alarmed. He was sitting calmly behind a large desk space, and as I looked at his gently smiling face something fell into place.

“Oh…” I murmured in amazement, pointing to the photo. “Is this… your son?”

Why hadn't I thought of that right away? Everything about the boy that _didn't_ remind me of Tobey reminded strikingly of Darix.

He nodded solemnly. “Taken before… before the virus.”

His countenance grew sad, and I wrenched my eyes away from him, looking back to the picture. It was awful to think that the health and vigor I had been admiring only seconds ago was probably a thing of the past for this boy. To think that he was back home on Lexicon withering away while his father searched for a cure to his illness…

I bit my lip and looked once more back to Darix, who heaved a composed sigh and straightened.

“The ship that attacked us was from planet Zymeen,” he said, mincing no words, and I blinked in surprise. Despite how upset I had been a few minutes ago, I'd nearly forgotten why Darix brought me in here to begin with. He went on to say, “The Zymians are the mortal enemies of our people and represent the greatest threat to Lexicon—save, perhaps, for the Logorrhea virus itself.”

I stood silent for a moment, blindsided by this new information. “So… they attacked us just because we're Lexiconian?”

“They need no better reason, I'm afraid.” Darix scoffed contemptuously. “They didn't even have the decency to contact us first to state their grievances.”

I swallowed, remembering with trepidation my last encounter with Tobey. He had been poking around in the communication logs. Was it possible that he had accidentally disabled or altered something in the comm system? Could he have unintentionally caused this attack?

Darix continued, wresting me from my frightening thoughts. “I doubt you were old enough to remember, but we were at war with them when you left our homeworld.”

“And… we still are?” I ventured. Darix remained broodingly silent, and I inferred the answer.

 _Wow_ _… Lexicon is at war with another planet?_

That was a lot to take in. Suddenly I was aware of just how much I'd taken for granted the simplicity of life on Earth. Even the often maddening everyday difficulty of living a double life seemed a shallow complaint compared to living in the midst of a galactic war. On Earth the biggest problems were internal. The only time I'd ever had to worry about a threat descending from the stars was when Miss Power had come, and she had been the greatest threat I'd ever faced. To think that my people had been living with this shadow over them every day, and I'd never even known.

“Merciless cowards…” Darix murmured suddenly, “They besiege our planet for years, attack us in the middle of a viral outbreak, and still have the gall to—”  
He cut himself off with a loud BANG of his fist against the desk. I flinched in surprise and shied back. Darix sighed regretfully and withdrew back into his seat, eyes downcast. “I'm sorry. It's just… you got me thinking about my Kyto again, and…”

He trailed off, and my heart went out to him. _Kyto_ _… That must be his son's name._ He didn't even realize that this was the first time he'd told it to me. I drifted closer, wanting to offer whatever comfort I could. “It's okay,” I said, “I understand. You love him and you're worried about him. Trust me, I know the feeling.”

I halted mid-smile, feeling an uncomfortable pang in my chest. _W_ _hy did I just say tha_ _t?_

As if his unease had been transferred to me, Darix softened and relaxed, though he still looked very sad. Taking a deep breath, he said, “I wish I could have convinced him to leave… but he did what he thought was right, and I can't begrudge him that.”

I swallowed, and the pangs in my chest grew sharper. Darix's words hit frighteningly close to home. I thought of Kyto, who had come to remind me of Tobey in so many ways, and then I found myself thinking of Tobey. As angry as I was at him for the crazy things he was doing, I knew that my failure had contributed to this problem. Tobey wasn't so far away from having been a villain, after all. I could only be so surprised at him for doing things like spying and stealing when something he wanted so badly was at stake. For me, however, there was less excuse. I should've known better—should've known _him_ better. It should have occurred to me that he was desperate and stubborn enough to do something like this.

If I'd recognized how strong his feelings were, and put more effort into leaving him with some kind of closure in our relationship, then maybe Tobey wouldn't have tried something so drastic. Maybe he would be safe on Earth right now, rather than hiding in a cargo hold engaging in illegal activities while his air ran out. With a deep pang of guilt, I solemnly accepted that _I_ would be partly responsible if he died out here.

The lady who sat behind Darix on the bridge stepped into the room from behind me, sparing me a glance before turning straight to Darix. “Captain, I have the damage report from the attack.”

“Go ahead,” said Darix.

“There was some damage to the weapons systems, but they should be back up and running soon. All major systems are functioning within acceptable parameters, but the engines were grazed. Our arrival at the station may be delayed by half an hour or so.

“Very good. Thank you,” Darix replied, and the woman gave a respectful nod before dismissing herself.

I cringed and held my breath to keep from gasping. No… Not more delays. Time was too short already!

That did it. I _had_ to convince Tobey to abandon this venture. I would be as gentle as I possibly could, but I would not take no for an answer.

I turned to Darix, pasting on a fake smile. “Well, I'd better go—check on Huggy.”

“Good idea,” Darix said. “I have to go see the doctor about the results of your blood test anyway.”

I scarcely took the time to nod as the female officer had before I fled the room in a poorly-concealed hurry.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

I heard the sound of the cargo bay doors grinding open and jumped into my usual hiding spot behind a loose cargo container. Even though crew members almost never came down here, I couldn't assume that the Lexiconian floating into the room was Becky. Of course, at the moment I would be tempted to stay hidden even if it _was_ Becky. Her scathing wrath was still so fresh in my mind that I might've preferred to face Captain Darix himself rather than my dearest love. Funny how that worked.

“Hello? Huggy?” Becky's voice called out, and in spite of everything, I _did_ feel relieved.

“Hey, Becky,” I murmured, sounding dejected even to my own ears. I came out of hiding into the open where she could see me, but I didn't lift my eyes to see her face.

Bob scampered up to her, chattering in a tone that, to my surprise, I was able to recognize as flustered and confused. I didn't need an interpretation _or_ sign language to know what he was so worked up about.

“We were attacked by an enemy ship,” was Becky's response. She sounded as morose as I felt, and went on to say, “Apparently Lexicon is at war with Planet Zymeen, and one of their ships attacked without even trying to contact us first.”

 _Oh, is that all?_ I thought, sternly warning myself that this was not the time for sarcasm.

“Nice of them to let us know that might happen,” I grumbled, frustrated at my lack of self-control. That had _not_ been the right thing to say.

I cringed, waiting for another stern rebuke. Becky was silent for a tense moment, and then she gently said, “Neither of you was hurt, were you?”

My chest thumped, and I finally raised my downcast eyes to look at Becky's face. There was no anger, judgment, or disappointment in her expression—only concern. A knot of anxiety began forming in my throat. It was happening again. I could feel it… my steadfast resolve melting in the warmth of her undeserved kindness.

I swallowed hard and forced out the words, “No, we're—fine.”

Bob smiled and gave a corroborative thumbs-up.

Relief lit up Becky's face without completely replacing the concern, and she softly whispered, “I'm so glad.”

I swallowed. She was practically glowing with sincerity, but she didn't _sound_ glad.

Drawing a deep breath, she gravely said, “Listen, Tobey… The engines were damaged in the battle. They say it's going to take an extra half hour to get to the space station.”

I swallowed. That… wasn't good. “Okay… Half an hour isn't too bad. Still within our margin of error.”

Becky heaved a mournful sigh, seemingly in place of an aggravated scream. She kept her tone even, however, when she replied, “Margin of error? We weren't even sure if you would have enough air _before_ this happened.”

“Becky, relax,” I said, willing confidence and indifference into my voice. If there was one thing my years as a villain had taught me, it was how to feign confidence and indifference. “We just went from six hundred minutes to six hundred and thirty minutes. It's not that big of a difference.”

“It is if you run out of oxygen after six hundred and _twenty_ minutes.”

I didn’t have a snappy response for that, and so it was my turn to heave an aggravated sigh. I tried to think of an argument during the ensuing awkward silence, but Becky beat me to it with a question that chilled my blood.

“Tobey… can you look me in the eye and honestly tell me that you're doing this because you're afraid of what might happen to me—and not because you're afraid of what might happen to _you_ without me?”

For a moment, I might as well have been a busted robot. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, and felt as though my brain was going haywire. So many things that I believed or desired or feared clashed like good and evil, while things that I had counted on for stability and support were suddenly frail and insubstantial, and crumbled under my weight. I felt like I was falling.

Becky alighted softly in front of me and grasped me by the shoulders, holding my eyes with a stare that pierced right through to my soul. “Tobey… you _have_ to let me go.”

Desperate, craven, falling-apart mess that I was right then, I don’t know where I found the grit to argue. Yet, somehow, I managed it. “No… I can't… I need you.”

I cast down my face and closed my eyes for good measure. I was so ashamed, I didn’t dare meet her gaze. I probably would have dashed away and hidden inside a cargo container if my legs hadn’t felt as though they would give out any second.

Becky was quiet for a moment and held fast to my shoulders. Her voice when at last she spoke was tender and melodious. “Two years ago, just before you stopped being a villain, you told me that everything that defined you was slipping away. You said that you didn't even know who you were anymore. Remember?”

I nodded, trembling in her grasp.

“Do you remember what I told you?”

The memory washed over me, and my heart warmed even as my chest tightened. I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced myself to look up at Becky’s face. “You said… 'Let _me_ define you.'”

She smiled. “Until…?”

In spite of myself, I somehow smiled back. “Until I was ready to take over for myself.”

Becky nodded, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I know you don't feel like you're ready, Tobey… but I can't define you anymore. It's your turn.” She let go of my shoulders, then reached up and took my face in her hands. I could feel the blood rising up into my cheeks. Her voice was firm, gentle, and sincere. “Time for you to search your own heart, and listen to your own conscience, and decide for yourself what you think is right and wrong. You can do it. I believe in you. You're one of the strongest people I've ever known.”

I took a deep breath, wrestling with myself, torn between comfort and condemnation. How was _I_ supposed to decide for myself what was right and what was wrong? I still struggled daily just to resist the old selfish impulses that ruled me in my villain days. And I had been so sure that I was right about _this_. I had been so sure that I was doing it for the _right_ reasons.

Was I wrong? Had I been acting selfishly all along—imagining convenient threats in hopes of holding onto someone I never deserved in the first place? Was I subconsciously trying to keep her for myself, even at the cost of a whole planet of people who needed her?

“All right… Fine,” I seethed, clenching my teeth and backing away from her. “Go! Tell them about me, I don't care!”

I turned away and lumbered over to the console by the wall, where I plopped down with arms crossed and said no more. A concerned moan from Bob was clearly directed at me, but I ignored it.

After a silent moment, Becky simply said, “Thank you.” I didn’t hear her fly off, but I knew she was gone when the bay doors opened and closed again a moment later.

Bob quietly, tentatively skittered up beside me and chirped what sounded like a question. When I didn’t stir, he gave my arm a gentle nudge to get my attention. I scooted away and turned my back to him—the same farewell, it seemed, that I ultimately gave to everyone who tried to help me.

I bit my lip, drew up my legs, and let my face fall into my arms, where all I could see was darkness. For the first time in my life, I was positive that Becky was the one who was wrong, but not about Darix—about _me_.

I wasn’t strong. I was a spoiled, selfish, cowardly child whose integrity couldn’t persevere past his desires. What was wrong with me? What were these past two years _for_ if they had come to this? I had fought uphill for so long and achieved what seemed like such a tremendous victory. I had given up villainy, practiced humility, and tried so, _so_ hard to be good. Yet, at the first sign of losing something I really cared about, I had thrown it all away, and fallen right back to my old wicked devices. Worse, I had even convinced myself that my motives were noble.

Becky had been so proud of me, so amazed at the steadiness of my progress and the depth of my change.

And now… I wondered if I had ever _really_ changed at all.

 

« ... »

 

_So I remained utterly silent, not even saying anything good. But my anguish increased; my heart grew hot within me. While I meditated, the fire burned;_

— _Psalm 39:2-3a_

 

* * *

 

**Author's Notes:**

**-** _**“Do you remember what I told you?”—** _ **No, this memory wasn** **’t from an actual episode. It’s a reference to chapter 21 of** _**Saving Tobey** _ **, which was when *SPOILER ALERT* Tobey finally had his breakthrough and decided to give up villainy and be good. Ah, good times** **… :3**

 **-** _**Planet Zymeen** _ _**—** _ **When coming up with a name for Lexicon's rival planet, I wanted to keep with the semi-established tradition in the show of patterning the alien races after a particular school subject. WordGirl – Lexicon - Language Arts; Kid Math – Hexagon – Arithmetic** **… Heck, you could even interpret that Miss Power's race is modeled after social studies, based on how her personality and goals revolve around understanding and manipulating people. So, I chose 'science' as the theme subject for my original race and settled on the name 'Zymeen' after playing around a bit with the word 'enzyme.' Convoluted, I know, but I liked this approach better than just making up some random cool-sounding name. :P I don't know exactly how much opportunity I'll have to play around with the science-geek culture of the race, but I figure the hard, survival-of-the-fittest mentality associated with science might help explain why they are so ruthless. Maybe their enmity with Lexicon could even kinda-sorta represent the mental and emotional clash between people who favor art and people who favor** **science.**

 **-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“Part of It” by Relient K** _ **— This song is about putting things in perspective after the loss of someone you love, but more in the context of separation than of death. My original vision for this chapter was to end it on a less depressing note where Tobey finally accepts that he has to let go of Becky, but he is more-or-less at peace about it. However, when I actually wrote it, much darker themes and feelings just sort of worked themselves in. *_* So, the song doesn** **’t fit as well in actuality as I thought it did in the planning stages, but I still wanted to mention it. It’s just such a sad but hopeful message for anyone who has ever had to let go of someone** **.**


	14. Paroxysm

_ **Hey, readers! This chapter references the episode 'Tobey Goes Good.'** _

 

* * *

 

Paroxysm [ **par** - _uh_ k-siz- _uh_ m] – any sudden, violent outburst; a fit of violent action or emotion.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

For what seemed like the hundredth time, Bob squealed at me. He might’ve sounded a little more urgent this time, but truth be told, I didn’t care. I was still lost in frustration and self-loathing, and nothing seemed to matter at the moment. Finally, he seized my arm and tugged hard on it, shocking my dulled senses with a flash of pain.

“What?” I snapped, shooting him a glare. He shot a matching glare right back at me and just kept pulling me away from the wall. I didn’t have much choice but to scramble to my feet and let him lead me away. It was that or let him tear my arm off.

“Bob, what are you—?”

Before I could finish my question, he shoved me in front of the console we’d been working at earlier and pointed at the screen. I blinked. Too befuddled to argue, I obediently pulled out my computer and looked over the translated display, searching for whatever it was he wanted me to see.

“It’s just the communication logs,” I grumbled. “We already showed those to Becky, remember?”

Bob shook his head and pointed to the bottom of the screen with a pronounced screech. I covered my ears and cringed, then frowned at him and once more cowed to his will, looking down to the bottom of the list, where the most recent items were. The last log was from less than an hour ago. I almost took a page from Becky’s book and dismissed it as nothing, but then something about the timeframe clicked into place.

“This was… just before the ship was attacked.”

Bob nodded gravely.

I looked at the origin of the signal. “It looks like this was sent by the ship that attacked us.”

Again Bob nodded, adding a concerned groan this time. I let myself slip into quiet thoughtfulness for a moment, trying to remember Becky’s exact words from a few minutes ago. She had said that the ship was attacked by an enemy vessel… but I was pretty sure she had also said that it was an unprovoked, unannounced attack.

“She did say that the other ship _didn_ _’t_ try to make contact before it fired, right?”

Bob nodded, and the third time was a very disturbing charm.

My hands flew to the panel. I isolated the communication log in question and began digging into its properties and tracing its history. The panel had been open to the backup buffer, where copies of transmissions were automatically saved for future reference in case something happened to the main computer. I’d figured it would be safer to access them here, where no one would be looking, rather than poke around where the crew was far more likely to notice. This time, however, I took the risk and accessed the primary communications array.

A few minutes later, I was staring blankly at the screen, my mouth hanging slightly open. The log wasn’t there. A record of the enemy ship attempting to contact this one was sitting in the backup buffer like a ghost, but as far as the main computer was concerned, the contact had never been attempted.

I swallowed and forced myself to suppress a sudden thrill of panic. I couldn’t let myself jump to conclusions, but something was clearly wrong here. What did the discrepancy actually _mean_?

Could it be a technical glitch? Could the communication have somehow bypassed the main computer and gone straight to the backup buffer? I screwed up my face. It was possible. With technology, virtually _anything_ was possible… but a glitch like that in such a vital system of an advanced spacecraft? The chances were minuscule. If the transmission had been shunted past the main computer and sent straight to the backup buffer, it was a lot more likely that it had been done deliberately.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and allowed myself to stray back into the dark corner of my mind that I had abandoned long ago. I asked the old me—the ‘Other’ Tobey—‘Why would you try to hide an enemy’s communication attempt?’

The answer was simple. _So that if hostilities break out, I appear innocent._

I took another deep breath. This was a dangerous line of thought, but one I couldn’t turn back on. Not now. I couldn’t let myself jump to conclusions, but I definitely had to reach one. Someone on this ship clearly wanted it to look like that attack had been unprovoked, but there was no telling who, or why. Was it just one person, or a conspiracy? Was the motivation political? Personal? Did it even have anything to do with Becky?

I had no answers, which meant that the only question that mattered right now was, _What am I going to do?_

The doubts came back. This was an ethical choice, and I had little faith in my ability to rightly make those.

 _“Time for you to search your own heart, and listen to your own conscience, and decide for yourself what you think is right and wrong,”_ Becky had said. _“You can do it. I believe in you.”_

My own heart… My own conscience… What _I_ think is right and wrong…

Bob tapped my arm and chirped inquisitively. He wanted to know what I was going to do. Heaving a deep sigh, I looked down at his worried face, embracing the rush of irrational determination that flowed into me. Although I still wasn’t sure about right and wrong, I was certain of one thing. I _had_ to protect Becky.

I didn’t know if there was a real threat to her or not, but that didn’t matter.

I didn’t know if I was acting for her sake or my own, but that didn’t matter.

I didn’t know if my actions were morally sound or not, but somehow, even _that_ didn’t matter.

All that mattered was that she was safe—whatever my risk, and whatever the outcome. That was my decision, for good or ill. I could only hope it was for good.

“I don’t know whether I want to be right or wrong, Bob,” I whispered. “It seems like my life is over either way…”

I steeled as though I were about to jump off the high-dive, and began entering commands in my computer’s interface. Bob climbed up on my back and watched nervously as I began pulling up security protocols and disabling them one at a time. If I was going to get to the bottom of this, I would need access to the most sensitive information on file. Even if it meant breaking my promise to Becky… and even if she hated me for it.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

“Just relax and listen for the sound I play,” said Darix. “If you can hear it, tell me what you think it is, and where you think it's coming from.”

I sat on a chair in the medical bay, feeling strangely conflicted. I kept waiting for a good time to mention Tobey—kept trying to think of a way to tell Darix about him that wouldn’t get him in _too_ much trouble—and yet, whenever I thought I’d found the opportune time or the perfect way, I choked just shy of going through with it. Why? Why was I so reluctant? Tobey said I could tell them about him, and every minute I waited put his life in greater danger.

Darix floated over to a command console on the wall. He lifted his hand over a button and smiled at me. “Are you ready?”

“Go ahead,” I replied, trying not to let my frustration leak into my voice.

He pushed a button on the panel and I closed my eyes, forcing myself to slow my breathing as I searched for an out-of-place sound. Past the chattering of the crew and the rumbling of the ship's engines, I finally identified something different.

“I hear music… coming from the bridge, I think,” I said, trying to make out the words to the song. After a moment I repeated back the lyrics, “Like, ‘I could care less.’ That means you _do_ care… at least a little.”

“Very good,” Darix praised, pressing another button on his panel. “How about this one?”

At first, there was nothing. I concentrated harder until I could hear a faint buzzing that was different from any of the sounds the ship usually made. “Um… It's coming from the library, and I think it's insect wings.”

“Excellent,” Darix laughed. He pushed one more button, this time without saying anything.

I unintentionally cheated with this one. Before my ears picked up on the sound, I heard Huggy down in the cargo bay saying he thought he heard something, followed by Tobey's response—something about not being able to understand space-monkey. I almost laughed, but restrained myself and redoubled my search for Darix's mystery noise.

“It's music again, coming from the cargo bay,” I said as soon as I found it. “Stringed instruments. No words.”

“Amazing,” Darix marveled. “That last one was playing at less than 0.5 decibels!”

I unconsciously sighed, finding no comfort in his compliments this time. I was much too focused on the secret I was still harboring. Just over four hours had passed since we'd left Earth, meaning that in less than an hour it would be too late to turn the ship around with enough air to get Tobey back home.

“Is something the matter?” Darix asked, and I suddenly realized how despondent I must look. I did my best to shake it off and put on a cheerful face, lest Darix become suspicious.

“Oh, no, it—it's nothing,” I muttered, trying to sound casual.

“It doesn't _sound_ like nothing,” Darix observed, calling my bluff.

I perked up. This was my chance! I straightened and said, “I guess I'm just… thinking about home.”

What?

 _What was that? Why did I say THAT? Of all the useless, stupid, dishonest_ _…_

I could have kicked myself. _Why_ was I so hesitant to tell him about Tobey? Why?!

Darix looked at me with tender, understanding eyes, and sat down beside me on the medical bed. “You know, it might help ease your pain if you try not to think of Earth as your home anymore. Your home is Lexicon now—the planet where you were born.”

“Yeah, I know,” I said, letting the frustration I couldn’t mask pass for homesickness. Almost without meaning to, though, I kept on talking. “It's just that I left so many people behind. People I loved. There are so many things I wish I had said, and things I wish I _hadn't_ said… I left some things unresolved, thinking they didn't matter anymore, and now I'm starting to realize that… they mattered a _lot_. More than I could've imagined.”

I was choosing my words in a bashful effort to cover my failed attempt at coming clean, but I was shocked at how true they rang in my ears. I examined my heart, and I realized that even though Tobey would be safe if I told Darix about him and we took him back to Earth, it would not be a healthy parting. Not if it happened like this. Tobey had given me leave to reveal his presence, but grudgingly. His heart obviously wasn’t in it. If I exposed him now, I would always feel like I forced him into it, and he would probably always feel like I had abandoned him.

I didn’t want that. I wanted us to part as friends. I wanted to look forward to a happy reunion if I was ever able to return to Earth. I didn’t want to have to spend my time on Lexicon wondering if he might hate me.

“You're a noble soul,” Darix said comfortingly. “You take the pain and problems of the world on your shoulders, and that's not a bad thing. In fact, it's a quality of yours for which I am immeasurably grateful. It is the reason why you're here right now, on your way to saving the life of my son as well as countless others.”

Darix looked away with a solemn face, and after a quiet moment he softly said, “You can’t let yourself dwell in the past.”

He sounded like he was speaking from experience. I sighed and turned my eyes to the floor. He was right. There were certainly things I wished I’d done differently, but brooding on them wouldn’t change anything. All I could do was try my best from now on to make decisions that I wouldn’t regret, and somehow I knew that I would regret being the one to tell Darix about Tobey. The only way this whole mess could have a peaceful conclusion was if Tobey showed _himself_ , and I did my best to smooth things over afterward.

“I… wish I could offer you better comfort than that,” Darix murmured wistfully.

“No,” I said with a smile. “You actually helped a lot. Thank you.”

Once again I kept the truth from him, but this time I felt peace about it.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

The cargo bay doors opened before I got to them, and I drifted inside as one of the service bots trundled out. I floated over the maze of shelves and arced quietly down to where Tobey and Huggy were. Captain Huggyface was sleeping fitfully in a crate that looked like it used to be full of spare parts. I cringed a little at the reminder that Tobey had been pillaging the ship’s cargo, and made a mental note to see to it that everything was put back where it came from— _before_ Tobey showed himself to Darix if possible.

I looked over to Tobey and was surprised to see that he was working with the same panel from earlier. That was… strange. To be honest, after our last conversation, I’d expected him to be huddled in a corner bemoaning his dashed hopes. My heart fluttered with apprehension, and I quietly hovered up behind him to peek over his shoulder at the screen. I almost gasped when I read the bold red letters that said in Lexiconian,

 

 **REMOVING FILE: L** **EVEL 4 SECURITY BLOC** **K**

 

“What are you doing?” I demanded.

Tobey jumped in surprise and quickly pressed a button on the console that changed the display on the screen.

“Oh, hi, Becky,” he greeted in a chipper voice. “I was just… playing Pong.”

I looked at the game screen, then back at him, frowning in disgust. “Tobey, you have zero points.”

“I'm… really bad at Pong,” he claimed pathetically.

I stared at the fake innocent look on his face, and at that moment, something I'd never felt before was born inside me.

“You're lying to me…” I murmured in disbelief. “I can't believe you're _lying_ to me, Tobey!”

Like it wasn't enough that he had expected me to lie for him. Like it wasn't bad enough that he had ignored every conviction of _my_ conscience and persisted in deceiving the whole crew of this ship. Now he was even going so far as to try to deceive _me_ …

My own question—the one I had asked Gray—repeated in my mind. _Why do I want to trust him_ _… and why can't I?_

I’d always known why I wanted to trust Tobey. It was because I'd seen the good in him. Despite his many flaws, I knew he was capable of change, and I cared about him. But now… now I knew why I _couldn't_ trust him.

He had betrayed me.

He betrayed me by valuing his own desires above my duty as a hero, by committing crimes against the people I was trying to help, by disabling the ship’s security system, putting the whole crew at risk, and now by lying to me. To _me!_ The one he supposedly cared for more than anyone. He dared betray my trust after I'd risked so much for him, and the part that stung the most was that even now, as furious as I felt, I was still worried to death about what might happen to him.

 _I don't understand,_ I thought to myself as my anger began to boil over. “Tobey, I don't understand! How can you stand there and look me in the eye and _lie_ to me?!”

“Becky, I'm sorry,” he said in a voice that _sounded_ sincere, “but you didn't give me any other option.”

“No other _option_?!” I shouted. “What kind of options do you think you're giving _me_? I'm trying to save your life here! Don't you realize how much trouble you're getting yourself into?!”

“I'm not afraid of getting in trouble,” he stated vehemently, showing no signs of backing down. “And I'm not afraid of running out of oxygen, either. You don't need to worry about me.”

“Don't need to worry about you? Darn it, Tobey, you know I can't just sit back and watch you get yourself killed! Don't you think I have enough weighing on my mind already, what with you hacking the ship's computer, and pillaging the ship's cargo, and _lying_ to me? You're not supposed to be a villain anymore, Tobey! Why are you _doing_ all this to me?!”

Tobey clenched his fists, took a sharp breath, and angrily blasted, “Because I _love_ you!”

I froze. My tongue caught in my throat, and all the anger and frustration raging inside me vanished in an instant.

I was shocked, though I shouldn't have been. I'd known about Tobey's feelings for me since we were both in middle school, but only now did I realize that he had never actually _told_ me before. I never could have anticipated the effect that hearing him say those words would have on me. It felt like… like my heart had done a somersault, and my emotions had all turned upside down. I couldn't even tell _what_ I was feeling anymore.

 _Tobey_ _… loves me._

The weight and veracity of that simple truth had never been so clear in my mind. _That_ was why he was doing all this—why he was willing to put his life on the line over a half-baked theory that I might be in danger. He didn't just _like_ me, he didn't just have a stubborn crush on me, and he wasn't just enamored with my celebrity. He really, truly… _loved_ me. It was like I was finding out for the first time.

I looked up at his face—firm, determined, sincere, maybe a little angry—and I couldn't draw breath to speak.

“You don't have to love me,” he said earnestly. “You just have to _trust_ me.”

By that point, every thread of my former resolve had disappeared without a trace, and I found myself speaking words from my heart that I hadn't even realized were true. “I do.”

I swallowed, feeling faint and weak in the knees. “I trust you, Tobey.”

 

« ... »

 

_When I am afraid, I put my trust in you._

— _Psalm 56:3_

 

* * *

 

**Author's Notes:**

**-** _**0.5 Decibels** _ _**—** _ **If anyone is wondering how Huggy was able to hear such a quiet sound, I** _**sort of** _ **have an explanation** **… Well, more like a weak attempt at making sense of things in the canon that never made much sense to me. :[ There are several instances in the show of Huggy demonstrating a hearing ability comparable to Becky’s. However, this is ostensibly done as a matter of convenience, and personally I never really accepted the idea that he shares this one subtle little power with her. Plus, once her super-hearing became an important part of my plot, I didn’t want to let such a weak canon detail stand in the way of my story. So, my interpretation is that Huggy has exceptionally** _**good** _ **hearing, though not quite** _**super** _ **-hearing, if you get my drift. Not sure if that reasoning agrees with everything the show establishes about Huggy** **’s particular breed of Lexiconian monkey, but it’s what I’m going with. If you’d like, feel free to speculate about how Lexiconian monkey genes could be somehow connected to the birth defect that gives Lexiconian children super-hearing. :P**

 **-** _**Three Little Words** _ _**—** _ **If I** **’m** _**really** _ **lucky, some of you may remember an author** **’s note from** _**Saving Tobey** _ **when I mentioned** **‘The Five Love Languages’ and how Tobey’s is ‘Quality Time.’ Well, when I was brainstorming this chapter, I had a revelation so obvious it was worth a facepalm and yet so relevant that it birthed one of the most pivotal scenes in the story: Becky’s love language is** _**definitely** _ **‘Words of Affirmation.’ You might be thinking, ‘well DUH, Night, of** _**course** _ **it is!** **’ However, this was actually a very eye-opening discovery for me in terms of writing TTGH, because it made something even more important fall into place. Since Becky receives love almost exclusively through words, she may not really grasp the true depth of Tobey’s feelings for her until he tells her plainly. O.O Since he’s never done that before, I thought it would be the perfect way to ‘break the ice,’ so to speak, and finally get her on the same page with him about what’s going on—not to mention throw her fragile adolescent emotions into a veritable tizzy. *snickers evilly, then clears throat***

 **-** _**“You don’t have to love me. You just have to trust me.”—** _ **You see what I did there? :3 I had fun doing a symbolic reversal on that line from** **‘Tobey Goes Good’ where he said, “You don’t have to trust me. You just have to love me.” :]**

 **-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“Take Me (As You Found Me)” by Anberlin** _ **— Why is it that most of the scenes I write are from Becky** **’s viewpoint, but most of the theme songs I find are from Tobey’s? :| *sigh* Needless to say, this song captures how I imagine Tobey is feeling much more poetically than I could in the story itself. There are some weird metaphorical lines that are a bit dark for a WordGirl story (talk of drinking blood and ripping flesh and such), but as long as you don’t take them literally, the correlation is beautiful. Basically, Tobey is despairing and accepting that Becky has become such an integral part of who he is that he would actually rather die than be parted from her. He doesn’t know if it’s right, or healthy, or even forgivable, but it’s his present reality, and he can’t make himself fight it anymore.**

 **-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“If You Believe Me” by Relient K—** _ **Goodness, I love Relient K. :3 This is Tobey in his final, desperate effort to get through to Becky. He** **’s begging her to understand him, to trust him, and to believe him, even to the extent of going against her principles. It’s a powerful plea.**


	15. Miche

Miche [mich] – _B_ _ritish Dialec_ _t._ to lurk out of sight..

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

* * *

 

I finished packing up the last of my gear into the cargo container and closed the lid. Even my supercomputer I had reluctantly placed inside. Loath though I was to be without it, I just couldn't risk it getting confiscated. I'd managed to download my translation algorithm and a few other essential programs into a datapad I'd found among the ship's cargo, and that would have to do for now. It was do-or-die time. The ship would allegedly be arriving at that space station in less than a few hours, and despite my best efforts at secrecy, they would probably notice that all their security protocols had been disabled long before that. My one consolation was that I no longer had to worry about anyone other than myself giving me away.

 _“I trust you, Tobey.”_ My hand froze in place at the memory, still grasping the half-closed lid. I drew a long, slow breath, and finished closing the container.

_She trusts me_ _…_

After all I’d done and everything I’d put her through, she actually trusted me. I never imagined how surprising it would be to hear that, or how wonderful it would feel to know it. Already the questions were beginning to bubble in the back of my mind—Did she trust me wholeheartedly, or reluctantly? Had I _earned_ her trust, or was she just giving it to me as yet another gracious act of good faith?—This time, however, it was easy for me to ignore the nagging voice of doubt. She trusted me, and knowing that was more than enough to silence my fears and strengthen my determination.

Bob squeaked at me, sounding concerned, and I surfaced from my reverie to turn and face him. I was curious at what point he'd woken up during my last fight with Becky, but judging by how he'd been acting since, he must have at least heard the important part. I didn't have time to play charades again, so I chose to take his monkey-babble as an inquiry about what I was doing.

“I'm going to be leaving the cargo bay for a while.”

Bob chirped in concern and grasped at the air.

“I _know_ I could get caught,” I said, “but there isn't any other choice.”

My investigation into the ghost communication log had yielded nothing. However, once I’d jumped down the proverbial rabbit hole—once there was no turning back _or_ holding back—the possibilities had become as vast as they were frightening. With the ship’s computer stripped of its security and the database laid bare, I had nearly despaired at just how much information there was and how impossible it would be for me to look through it all in just a few hours. Then, like an eerily unwelcome answer to prayer, I found it. The final anchor of legitimacy for my suspicions.

It all came down to the database on the Logorrhea virus—the one file directory in the ship’s computer that I _still_ could not access. It didn't make sense for that information to be top-secret, but it was. Not only top-secret, but Captain's eyes only, and even with the ship’s security protocols disabled, the file could only be opened directly from the command console in the Captain's quarters.

“I'm already in trouble. And if we get to that station and I still have nothing, it will all have been meaningless… especially if I'm right.”

Bob gave me a sad yet admiring look, then waddled up to me, and firmly grasped my hand. He uttered a single, unintelligible syllable, and I couldn't tell whether he was wishing me luck, instructing me to be careful, or telling me he was proud of me. Regardless, I knew that we were in agreement and that he was grateful. I never would have thought that receiving such a simple gesture from a _monkey_ , of all things, would be so encouraging.

I gripped his hand tightly, then let go and turned to the row of inactive service droids beside my cargo container.

“You should stay with Becky from now on,” I said, typing a command sequence into one of the robots. “She needs you right now, and it might start to look suspicious if you stay down here any longer.”

Bob made a nervous squeal.

“Don't worry. I'll be fine.” I paused and pulled a yellow memo pad from my pocket to show him. “But if I don't come back, find a way to get into Darix's quarters and look for one of these.”

Bob studied the pad for a moment, then nodded, and solemnly headed for the exit.

I took a few breaths and grabbed the datapad sitting on the floor at my feet. It was all up to me now, and I was feeling uncharacteristically apprehensive. I wasn't generally the type to get nervous, or even wonder at the consequences of my actions. This time was different, though. This time the consequences weren't just mine. If I failed, Becky might be the one to pay the price. I had never had another person's life hanging on my actions before—let alone someone I so dearly loved. It made the pressure far greater than what I was used to.

Grunting in determination, I marched over to the air vent on the wall that I'd opened in advance, climbed inside, and replaced the covering behind me.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

According to the ship schematic I'd memorized, I was just above the Captain's Quarters. I pressed my ear against the floor of the ventilation shaft and listened carefully while I counted in my head.

This waiting was the part that frustrated me. Every second I waited to make sure that Darix wasn't in the room was one less second I had before he came back, and the uncertainty grated on my nerves. Nonetheless, I swallowed my impatience and forced myself to hold still until I'd counted five full minutes. If I popped through the ceiling and he was standing right there, Becky and I were both in big trouble.

I reached three hundred in my head and still hadn't heard anything. Time to go.

Moving as quickly and quietly as I could, I crawled to the end of the shaft, where I could see into Darix's room beyond an imposing metal grate. I pulled a filched decoupler from my pocket and set to work loosening the clamps that fastened the grate in place, all the while watching for any sign of activity in the room. When I finished removing the last clamp I grabbed the grate to keep it from falling to the floor, then carefully angled it until I could pull it into the shaft with me, and set it down at my knees so I could crawl over it. I poked my head through the vent, took one last cautious sweep of the place, and then stealthily climbed through the wall into Darix’s room.

I tiptoed over to the command console behind a large desk and sat down, immediately pulling out my datapad and synching it up. The information on the terminal began to display in English on the smaller screen, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Now I just had to find the file in question.

With the security grid down, it was a simple matter to find the wayward directory named 'Logorrhea Virus,' but when I opened it, I encountered a problem I should have seen coming. After all, it was the same problem that had driven me to this extreme in the first place: too much information.

I bit my lip to keep myself from letting out a dangerously loud sigh. The directory had dozens of sub-folders and thousands of items on every topic that could be connected to the Logorrhea virus by any imaginable stretch. History, chemical makeup, casualty reports, demographics of affected areas… I was surprised there wasn’t an exhaustive survey detailing the favored pastimes of every person who had ever contracted the virus.

In the midst of my brooding, however, one file caught my eye. The filename in English was, ‘Subterfuge.’ Frowning with disturbed interest, I tried to open the file. A password prompt came up.

Now I was _really_ curious. A file already inside the most secure file directory in the computer with its own personal password protection besides? This terminal of Darix's must have its own independent system. That would explain why I couldn't access the file on the virus from the console in the cargo bay.

Crossing my fingers, I ran the password cracking program that I'd transferred over from my supercomputer. Character by character, a password gradually appeared in the line on the prompt. I squinted at the screen, then frowned, this time in surprise.

“Kyto?” It seemed like such a simple password—not that I would’ve ever been able to guess it. My translation algorithm couldn’t translate it, which meant that it was either a word that didn’t have an English equivalent, or it wasn’t a word at all. I had no time to wonder about that, though.

I pulled a pen and my memo pad from my pocket and scribbled the password down as fast as I could without rendering it illegible. I wrote the name of the file above the password, then pulled the sticky note page from the pad and stuck it under the very bottom of the desk by my feet with just a tiny corner of yellow paper sticking out. I doubted anyone who wasn’t specifically looking for it would ever see it. At least, that was what I hoped.

Zipping back to the console, I entered the password, and the file opened. I began reading the document, and I felt my heart starting to sink down into my stomach. I had to get this information to Becky before—

A hand reached around from behind me and clamped over my mouth. Before I could react another arm had wrapped around me, pinning my arms against my body. I tried to scream, but my voice was completely smothered. I tried to struggle free, thrashing and writhing with all my might, but whoever had grabbed me possessed inhuman strength. I could barely even move as something cold and sharp sank into my neck. There was a deep, stinging pain and then—numbness. My muscles went limp, my vision blurred, and a deep, piercing fear was the last thing my mind was aware of before everything went black.

 

« ... »

 

_Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; For You are with me;_

— _Psalm 23:4a_

 

* * *

 

**Author's Notes:**

**-** _**What Ventilation?** _ _**—** _ **Some of you clever folk may have noticed that I had Tobey crawling around in a ventilation shaft even though Lexiconians don** **’t need oxygen and this ship doesn’t have a controlled atmosphere. I’ll admit that this** _**was** _ **a simple oversight on my part from the first draft, but there** **’s a reason why I left it in rather than figuring out a different way for Tobey to get around. I figure even though the Lexiconians don’t need any particular** _**atmosphere** _ **, they would still need** _**ventilation** _ **, if only to circulate the air and make sure that certain parts of the ship don** **’t get too hot or too cold.**


	16. Elucidate

 

Elucidate [ih- **loo** -si-deyt] – to make lucid or clear; throw light upon; explain.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

“ _Because I love you!”_

No matter what I did, I couldn't stop that simple, earnest confession from playing over and over in my mind. I remembered everything about it—every tone, every inflection—in excruciating detail, and with the way it kept repeating back to me, I would never be able to forget. It was like my brain had independently decided to brand the words on my very soul.

I sat alone in the ship’s library, huddled in a dark corner. My heart ached terribly, like I'd been shot right through it. I closed my eyes and only kept seeing Tobey's face. It drew me back to the day I'd first met him, and then through the following four years. Every memory I had of him flashed before my eyes, but amid all the anger, the frustration, the condescending attitude, and the endless battle of wits, the one thing I kept focusing on was the way he smiled at me.

With a pained shudder I realized that, even back then, Tobey loved me. He hadn't the foggiest idea how to show it, and in all truth, he probably hadn't even known what love really was or why he felt the way he did. Yet even there, in the lonely darkness of his misguided selfishness… he had loved me.

 _Why?_ I wondered. I would probably never know, but figuring out _Tobey's_ feelings was the least of my worries right now. What scared me was that I couldn't figure out my own.

What scared me even _more_ was that Tobey was putting himself in terrible danger… for _my_ sake.

A tear rolled down my face, and I swallowed hard. I must've been out of my mind, but I had made my decision. Whether Tobey was right or wrong, I was with him on this. I would support and defend him, come what may, even if it meant we'd both go to jail together.

The library doors opened, and I looked up to see Captain Huggyface waddle toward me. He looked at me with compassionate eyes and asked if I was okay, saying he'd been all over the ship looking for me.

I heaved a sigh, and somberly stood to my feet. “I'll be okay, but… why aren't you with Tobey.?”

His face wilted, and he said that Tobey had something he wanted to do alone.

I tensed with concern. “How long ago did you leave him?”

Huggy chirped his reply—half an hour ago.

“We'd better go check on him,” I said, and Huggy nodded in agreement. I picked him up and zipped down to the cargo bay.

I gasped with worry when I saw that Tobey wasn't there.

“Huggy, where is he?”

Bob explained that Tobey had left the cargo bay to check on something.

I unconsciously lifted a trembling hand to my heart. This ship wasn't very big, and the cargo bay was the only part of it that didn't get much traffic. If Tobey wasn't extremely careful _and_ extremely lucky, he'd get caught for sure. Calming my nerves and closing my eyes, I listened all across the ship for Tobey's voice or any sign of where he might be.

“I can't hear him anywhere,” I reported fearfully. “Did he say where he was going?”

Huggy hesitated for a moment, then told me that he was probably going to the Captain's Quarters.

My whole body tensed with worry. “Okay… Then that's where _we're_ going.”

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

I waited just behind the corner at the end of the hallway, listening intently as Huggy did his little impromptu reconnaissance mission. He had told me that Tobey had only disabled security for the restricted data stored in the computer's memory banks. Security for doors still worked just fine, which in this case was both a good thing and a bad thing.

He walked down the corridor where all the crewmen's quarters were located, pushing one button on the number pad for each door in sequence. Meanwhile, I listened carefully and memorized the exact tone each number made when its button was pressed. Huggy returned to me, and I smiled in satisfaction.

“Good job, Huggy. Now comes the tricky part.”

I tuned my ears to the part of the ship where Darix's quarters were and waited. After a while, I heard his voice talking to a crewman as he approached his door. I closed my eyes and strained my ears to make sure I didn't miss a beat as Darix punched in the code that opened his door.

“Seven, two, five, zero, eight,” I whispered to Huggy. “Now we just have to wait for him to leave.”

Thankfully, it didn't take long. After about ten minutes Darix left his quarters behind and, as luck would have it, went straight to the bridge, which meant he probably wouldn't be returning to his room for a while.

“Let's go.” I picked up Huggy and cautiously drifted through the ship's halls until we arrived at the door to the Captain's quarters. I listened to make sure no one was around, then typed the code into the door. It opened, and Huggy and I slipped inside.

I zipped around the room, looking in every crevice I could find big enough to fit a person. There was no sign of Tobey. I wrung my hands together, worrying at my lip. “Oh… Where could he be?”

Huggy chirped a few instructions, pointing at the computer console at Darix's desk.

“A yellow sticky note?” I asked. That sounded a little low-tech for Tobey, but that was what Bob said to look for, so I didn't argue. I searched the room again, this time looking in any crevice small enough to fit a piece of paper. I found it quickly, with one tiny corner poking out from the small space between the floor and the bottom of the desk.

“Got it,” I whispered, pulling it out. Bob hopped up beside me, chittering congratulations and grasping one side of the note so that we could look at it together.

“Subterfuge?” I read aloud. “What does _that_ mean?”

Huggy gave a shocked squeak, and I hurried to correct him. “No, I know what _subterfuge_ means. It's something that's used in order to avoid or hide something else. For example, my super-hearing was our subterfuge to get inside this room without anyone knowing. I meant, what does the word 'subterfuge' have to do with… Kyto?”

Mystified, I glanced back down at the note, turning to the second word written on it. It was the name of Darix’s son, I knew that much, but that knowledge didn’t shed any light on where Tobey was, or what he had meant by leaving such a cryptic message.

Bob, thankfully, seemed to be a lot quicker on the uptake than I was, and he immediately hopped into the chair in front of the computer console and began browsing.

“You have an idea?” I asked, hovering hopefully over his shoulder. He nodded, not taking his eyes off the screen. He had searched for the word ‘subterfuge’ in Lexiconian, and sure enough, a file came up with that exact title, located inside a directory named ‘Logorrhea Virus.’ When he selected the file, a prompt popped up, asking for a password.

“Kyto,” I exclaimed as softly as possible at the same time that Bob started typing the word into the password window. He submitted the password, and the system accepted it.

I swallowed hard and began to read the document.

_The girl cannot know the true nature of our mission. She is idealistic and altruistic, but also simple and naive. She will not understand the necessity of this venture. Therefore, the following will be our story. Each member of the crew must learn it thoroughly, and adhere to it as though it were completely true._

_We will maintain that the Logorrhea virus is ravaging Lexicon CURRENTLY. Think of your friends and loved ones who were lost in the tragedy over a decade ago, remember what it was like_ _—what_ you _were like_ _—when they were still alive, and behave as you did then. What happened was no lie, so it will not be hard to pass this off as truth. Remember that we owe it to those whose lives were so ruthlessly taken, to serve justice by any means necessary._

_Also, remember that we are NOT to reveal the true cause of the Logorrhea outbreak. I realize this is a very sensitive topic for many of us, so for fear that our emotions may betray us, I believe it would be best if we avoided it altogether. If everything goes smoothly we can get what we need from Kaven_ _’s daughter before her suspicion is kindled and then release her back to her adoptive home and family. All crewmembers’ behavior should be tailored to this end. The child is a necessary asset, but she is otherwise innocent and uninvolved. It is my hope that she will never know our_ _intentions, and_ _that our purpose for her need not compromise her future safety any more than absolutely necessary._

“What are you doing?” asked a familiar voice in an unfamiliar tone.

I spun around and saw Darix standing in the doorway behind me, a darkened silhouette against the light behind him. I swallowed, cursing my carelessness. I must have been so focused on what I was doing that I forgot to listen for anyone approaching.

“Oh, hi, Darix,” I muttered sheepishly. “I was just, um… playing Pong.”

Darix stared hard at me, frowning gravely. Nervous tension began to course through my veins. I hadn’t even time yet to process what I’d just learned—that Tobey was right and that Darix had been deceiving me all along—and already the whole universe was tilting on its axis. I was only just starting to register the feelings of worry and betrayal, and already the man in front of me didn't seem like the Darix I knew anymore. The man in front of me was dark, joyless, and unscrupulous. He seemed almost… threatening. The one thing that was the same was the sadness in his eyes. They still shone with the same regretful sorrow that had stirred my heart to sympathy from the moment we met—like he was suppressing a deep and potent grief.

“Follow me,” he grimly instructed, and with that, he simply turned and drifted away.

I swallowed, cringing as dread washed over me. I didn’t want to obey him, but what choice did I have? There wasn’t anywhere else I could go.

 

« ... »

 

_For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known._

— _1 Corinthians 13:12_

 

* * *

 

**Author's Notes:**

**-** _**Musical Doors** _ _**—** _ **For the record, I am aware that no security system worth its salt would have a number pad like an old** **phone** **that makes a unique sound for each number. I just wanted Becky to use her super-hearing to get into Darix** **’s room, and I ran out of patience trying to think of a better way. If anyone has any ideas, I’m all ears. :)**

**-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“Clarity” by Zedd—** _ **Becky is struggling with her feelings. I could say more, but I have this sneaking suspicion I don** **’t really need to. ;P**


	17. Foudroyant

 

Foudroyant [foo- **droi** - _uh_ nt] – striking as with lightning; sudden and overwhelming in effect.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

I was silent and tense with apprehension, floating along behind Darix as he led me through the ship. He hadn’t uttered a word since we left his quarters. Poised and erect, he kept his arms folded professionally behind his back and his gaze unwavering before him. I couldn’t espy so much as a trace of his facial expression, and the total lack of emotion in his body language was unnerving. Gone was the warmth and lightheartedness that I had come to associate with him, confirming with ruthless clarity the discovery that had shocked me just moments ago. Even so, I was still having a hard time accepting it. All this time… Darix had been hiding something from me. He and his whole crew were keeping a huge secret. Tobey had been right along.

A stab of worry jarred my focus. Tobey! I still didn’t know where he was, and there couldn’t be more than a couple of hours left before the air ran out. I had to get away from Darix and find him… but then what? I would need the crew’s help in order to save him, but did I dare tell them about him _now_ , having just discovered how untrustworthy they were?

Huggy gave a nervous chirp as he clung to my shoulders, and I whispered for him to stay calm and alert. I wondered if I could find the composure to follow my own advice.

“I assume you have some questions for me,” Darix said suddenly without turning to face me.

I swallowed, and tried to keep a level tone as I replied, “A few.”

He glanced askance at me, but even this brief glimpse of his face offered no clue as to what he was thinking. “Go on, then. There’s no reason for me to hide anything at this point.”

I frowned and drew a quick breath. I wasn’t sure what I had expected, but this casual invitation for me to question him after I’d just caught him red-handed in his lies seemed so callous and smug that for the moment I forgot my fear and instead felt a swell of sharp anger.

“How could you?” I asked, clenching my fists at my sides. “I trusted you! How could you deceive me like that?”

“Wrong question,” Darix said.

I faltered, taken aback. “What?”

Darix halted in midair and turned to face me, flashing a split-second grin. “Come now, WordGirl, I know you’re naive and good-natured, but surely you can think of a question that might give you useful information, rather than one that simply gives you an outlet for your hurt feelings.”

I swallowed, glaring at him, but said nothing.

“Well?”

I hated to admit that he had a point, but unfortunately, he did. I took another breath, suppressing my anger, and tried to think objectively as I recalled what I’d read in Darix’s secret file. Presently another, more practical question came to mind. “What was the point? If the Logorrhea outbreak happened in the past and you never really needed me to help cure it, then what _do_ you want me for?”

To my ire, Darix smiled, as if with satisfaction. “That’s better.” He once more turned his back to me and continued down the corridor while I reluctantly followed. For a moment the silence was almost eerie, and I noticed for the first time that there were no crew members roaming the corridors. Aside from Huggy and myself, Darix was the only soul anywhere to be seen or heard.

“I’ll start from the beginning,” he said. “Your father Kaven and I were colleagues before you were born. We both worked in intelligence for the Lexiconian government during the war with Zymeen—and thus, we were among the privileged few who had advance warning of the most devastating act of terrorism Lexicon has ever seen.”

For a moment I just felt overwhelmed. Darix knew my father? They were colleagues? However, in the midst of my confusion, the more pertinent question once more rose to the surface of my thoughts. “The Logorrhea outbreak? It was an _attack_?”

“The Logorrhea virus was the most powerful biological weapon our scientists had ever seen,” Darix continued, still facing away from me, but at last betraying a sliver of despondency in his tone. “When we learned of it we did everything in our power to prevent it from being deployed… but our efforts were fruitless. Announcing the attack would have caused panic and mass evacuation, which in turn would have scattered our people into space, making it easy for the Zymians to hunt us to extinction. So, it was decided that we would allow the attack to happen, and contain the outbreak as best we could. Of course… there was no way to avoid massive casualties. Millions were killed, WordGirl. _Millions_ _…_ including your parents.”

There was a sorrowful little moan from Huggy that reflected my feelings exactly, but I forced myself to suppress the sentiment. There was no time to waste. Gathering my courage, I flew up beside Darix so that I could look at his face and gauge his reaction to what I was about to say. “But… you said all this happened before I was born.”

To my surprise, he smiled almost proudly and turned aside to meet my eyes. “Good. It appears your deductive reasoning skills aren’t as weak as I’d feared.”

I frowned, both annoyed and confused. The doors to the dimly-lit medical bay opened before him and Darix floated inside. “Mind your details, though.”

I drifted inside the room after him and found that a few of the missing crew members were present. The doctor who had drawn my blood was there, as was Gray. They both stood at attention and wore stoic, businesslike expressions, although in Gray’s case it was the same expression he’d always worn around me. I frowned nervously in their direction. It looked as if they were waiting for something to happen that had been planned in advance… something ostensibly having to do with _me_.

“I said your father and I were _colleagues_ before you were born,” Darix continued, paying no mind to the other two men in the room. “The Logorrhea attack happened a few years after.”

I bit my lip, processing the information as best I could amid my growing trepidation. _That would_ _’ve been around the time that I crashed on Earth, wouldn’t it?_

“Your father feared for your life. Not only were you just a baby, but your constitution was weak because of your birth defect. He knew there was almost no chance that you would survive the virus if you contracted it, so he arranged for you to be taken away.”

I gasped and craned my neck to look at Huggy, who shrugged and chirped his own surprise.

“The monkey wasn’t privy to the plan,” Darix confirmed. “Kaven secretly put you aboard your sidekick’s scout ship because he knew that it was slated for a deep-space reconnaissance mission. He hoped that the pilot would be able to care for you. _That_ hope, at least, was fulfilled.”

Darix took a deep breath and… was I imagining it, or did his face soften for just a moment back into the tender, gentle one I remembered? Before I could decide, however, his expression had hardened again, and he eyed me expectantly like he was giving me the floor to say something.

Tears stung my eyes. Faint though they were, I had memories of that journey—of waking up in that spaceship over ten years ago, startling its confused captain, and causing him to crash on the unknown planet that had become our home. I had no idea the circumstances that had led to that fateful voyage, or that my birth parents had sent me away to save my life. I had always assumed I was an orphan who no one had missed, and that was why it had been so easy for me to adopt Earth as it had adopted me, with no consideration for the world and family that I had left behind. Now, in light of this shocking revelation that I somehow knew was true, I felt a deep pang of sorrow, guilt, and grief for the parents I had never known. They had saved my life, and I couldn’t even thank them.

I felt Huggy’s fingers tighten on my shoulders, and I nearly reached up to grasp his hand but resisted the urge. The pull on my emotions was fierce, but I was still surrounded by people who had hidden the truth from me, and there was still danger and uncertainty in the air. I had to stay strong and keep my wits about me.

I swallowed the lump in my throat as quietly as I could, looked Darix straight in the eyes, and managed a slightly accusatory tone as I said, “You still haven’t answered my question.”

Darix’s face actually fell a little.“No. I suppose I haven’t… I wasn’t completely lying about why we needed you. Your birth defect _is_ necessary for the protection of our people, but not because it’s a potential cure for the Logorrhea virus. The virus was cured and eradicated by our scientists years ago. However, I can’t say the same for the Zymian threat.”

With these words his eyes steeled and his whole countenance darkened. He looked angry—hateful, even. I could tell he was nearing the end of his story, and as I grew more and more intrigued, I also grew more and more afraid. All this information was almost too much to take in, and as I struggled to keep it all straight in my head I was haunted by the ever-present question of where the conversation was ultimately going. What would happen once Darix finished his explanation of why he had tricked me into leaving Earth under false pretenses? What _did_ he want me for?

“After we neutralized their monstrous weapon and retaliated with an attack of our own that brought their planet to its _knees_ , they surrendered. They surrendered and pleaded for mercy like cowards, and _how_ did the Lexiconian government respond? By actually _giving_ it to them!” I shuddered as I listened. Darix’s composure had been virtually abandoned, and his words charged with loathing as he spoke. “When the war ended they let those savages off the hook with scarcely more than a stern warning not to start another one! They expected the families of countless Logorrhea victims to accept this, as though Zymeen’s defeat alone made up for our loss!”

At last, he quieted, and I couldn’t help but shrink away as he looked at me with fire in his eyes. “I represent thousands of Lexiconians who do NOT accept this, and my crew is made up of those brave enough to act against our government’s unfathomably irresponsible decision.”

Bob gave an angry shriek which meant something like, ‘What does any of this have to do with Becky?!’

Darix took a deep breath and steadied himself. To my surprise, he sounded a little sad when he said, “Unfortunately… everything. You see, your birth defect is the key to serving justice for what the Zymians did to our people, and ensuring that they are never a threat to Lexicon again.”

I tensed. Somehow I didn’t like the sound of that. “But… how?”

“Think!” Darix exclaimed, and I shied back from him. “Think, girl! You have enough information to answer the question yourself. What could I possibly want your defective gene for if not to cure a virus?”

Heart pounding, I looked to the other Lexiconians, hoping against hope that I would see some shock or sympathy in their eyes. Alas, Gray’s face remained placid while the doctor’s, if anything, shared a small spark of Darix’s rage. Thinking it best to answer him, I considered for a moment, raking over everything he had told me and trying to sort the truth from the lies to find an answer.

It came to me like a slap in the face. “My hearing ability…”

Apparently, I was correct, because Darix’s anger seemed to evaporate instantly and he once more gave me a satisfied smile. “Very good. I must congratulate you. I would never have thought that you would be able to sneak into my quarters undetected and retrieve top-secret information, all just by utilizing that tremendous ability of yours.” He paused, and his smile grew dark and sinister. “Just imagine what a trained agent could do with such an ability.”

Huggy gave a livid shriek, and I shared his feelings so exactly that my own outburst could have been a translation. “So _that's_ what this was all about?” My fists shook with fury at my sides. My fear had evaporated as quickly as Darix’s anger. “You tricked me into leaving my home, my family, and everything I knew, all so that you could use my super-hearing for espionage? For _spying_?”

“Yes,” Darix calmly defended. “The original plan was to get the necessary components from your blood to duplicate your ability in myself and my crew.” He paused to sigh, and I was surprised at how sincere he sounded. “I truly wish that plan could have worked. Then I would have been able to simply release you.”

I contained a gasp, and a bit of the fear came back. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that after analyzing your blood we’ve discovered that your constitutional stability was, in fact, a result of your exposure to the oxygen in Earth’s atmosphere over an extended period of time. I knew from the beginning that this was a possibility, but I had hoped for your sake that it wasn’t, because it means that your hearing ability cannot be artificially duplicated without severely debilitating the recipient. I can’t transfer your hearing ability to another Lexiconian and there is time-sensitive information about the enemy that I _desperately_ need.”

He paused, fixed me with a determined gaze, and firmly announced, “Therefore… _you_ will be my agent.”

I clenched my fists, my rage boiling over. I levitated almost to the roof and shouted down at him, “Forget it! There's no way I'd _ever_ help you!”

I was braced and ready for him to attack me or at least yell at me, but instead, he just heaved a disappointed sigh.

“Very well,” he murmured, almost morosely. He turned to the door and called out, “Come.”

The door opened, admitting three crew members… and someone else.

My heart leaped into my throat. “Tobey…”

 

« ... »

 

_Be not far from Me, For trouble is near; For there is none to help._

— _Psalm 22:11_

 

* * *

 

**Author's Notes:**

**-** _**Origin Story** _ _**—** _ **If you haven** **’t seen the episode ‘Wordgirl Makes A Mistake’ (which I was only recently able to see myself at the time I wrote this), you may not be completely able to tell which parts of WordGirl’s backstory I made up and which parts are canon. It’s fairly obvious that anything involving Darix is my own invention, but if you want a more thorough disentangling, most of the important info is on Becky’s page on the WordGirl wiki.**

**-** _**Exposition Overload** _ _**—** _ **Speaking of backstory, I fear the size and scale of the bombshell I** **’ve just dropped may be too much for some readers to take in from one sitting. *-* Unfortunately, aside from more time-consuming restructuring of the plot, there just wasn’t any way around this. In the first draft, the backstory was a lot simpler, but also less compelling. It had nothing to do with Becky’s parents or Lexicon’s history, and Darix was just on an egotistical power trip rather than misguidedly trying to do good for his people. I’m a lot happier with the new explanation, though I’ll admit it makes for a much longer and wordier reveal. I hope the added moral and emotional complexity is worth the added puzzlement and info-dumping. *smiles nervously***

**-** _**Monologuing** _ _**—** _ **Speaking of info-dumping, I just want to go on record that I am not a big fan of the obligatory villain monologue that I see in so many stories. Nonetheless, I** **’ll be the first to admit that what I’ve done here with Darix looks a lot like one of those. :S I understand why that obligatory monologue has become such a prominent** **clich** **é** **. It** **’s because mystery is such a crucial element in these kinds of stories, and no mystery is complete without the shocking revelation where all the answers come to light at almost the same time. What I don’t like about the ‘villain monologue’ method of doing this is that it tends to be completely unmotivated and reduces the villain to a one-dimensional vehicle for exposition rather than the complex, intelligent individual that any villain worth his or her salt should be. That being said, I feel I should explain myself about Darix’s ‘monologue.’ It may look and feel like many other familiar monologues, however I actually did take care to make sure it was necessary and in-character for him to do it, as well as show that he wasn’t exactly thrilled about** _**having** _ **to do it (notice the pointed lack of,** **‘Muahahaha, I have you now’ nonsense). Remember that Darix’s plan has taken two dramatic turns at once. First of all, he’s discovered that he can’t duplicate Becky’s hearing ability, which eliminates the possibility of simply releasing her, which in turn removes the need for secrecy. Second, now that he must use _Becky_ as his spy rather than himself and his crew, it is actually ** _**necessary** _ **for her to be privy to their situation and goals, even if she doesn** **’t agree with them. Darix may be a villain, but he’s not an idiot. He wouldn’t just go blabbing his whole secret plan for no good reason, thank you very much.**

**-** _**Bob gave an angry shriek which meant something like...** _ _**—** _ **For those of you who** **didn** **’t** **get this reference, I must heartily propound Lemony Snicket** **’s ‘A Series of Unfortunate Events.’ If you’re the type who can handle lachrymose tragedy mixed in with your juvenile comedy, there is a passionate love of English vocabulary in these books that any WordGirl fan would eat right up—a phrase which here means, ‘laugh in amazement at discovering another children’s series besides WordGirl that pauses the action to define words,’ and has nothing to do with the literal devouring of books as if they were food. :}**


	18. Capitulate

**Foreword:**

**This chapter contains one of the first scenes in the story that I actually wrote, though admittedly it** **’s changed quite a bit from the first draft. It’s a little on the short side, but I hope the weight of it will help compensate for that. Needless to say, it’s a game-changer in a lot of ways. ;)**

 

* * *

 

Capitulate [k _uh_ - **pich** - _uh_ -leyt] – to surrender unconditionally or on stipulated terms; to give up resistance.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

A Lexiconian woman pushed Tobey into the room, holding his arms behind his back. He thrashed and struggled, but I couldn't hear the faintest trace of his voice past the metal device strapped across his mouth. His eyes widened when he saw me, and his livid expression melted into dismay.

“Tobey!” I cried out.

Before I could try to help him the two crew members who had filed in beside him flashed forward and flanked me, each grabbing one of my arms. Huggy jumped from my back and attacked one of them. His shrieks filled the room as I tried to break free from the other crewman, but it was no use. I was accustomed to being stronger than anyone on Earth, but I was powerless against an adult Lexiconian, and the man subdued me easily.

Before long the other crewman returned, and behind him, I could see Huggy squirming on the ground, gagged and trussed up in some kind of cord. Together the two men forced me to my knees on the hard floor, gripping my arms behind my back so that I could barely move.

I grunted and strained uselessly as Darix flew over to Tobey. He took him from the woman, holding him by the arms and facing outward as she had, and hefted him across the room.

“Wait, what—? What are you doing?” I yelled, fighting with all my strength to get free. I couldn't even get up from the floor.

“I found this human in my quarters not half an hour before I found you,” Darix said casually. “I seem to recall that the two of you know each other.”

If looks could kill, Darix would've melted into a puddle right there from the searing glare that Tobey shot back at him.

Darix just frowned and reached for the back of Tobey's head. I almost screamed, terrified with concern, but Darix only removed Tobey's mechanical gag, letting it fall from his face.

“Let us GO, you—!” Tobey didn’t get to finish, because Darix tossed him to the floor in a corner by a medical station. A hard, transparent shell shot out of a groove in the wall, encasing the small area and trapping him inside. He got to his knees, the size of the bubble preventing him from standing up all the way, and shouted inaudibly as he pounded on the inside wall of his tiny prison. I had never seen him so angry.

“Don’t hurt him!” I begged, still struggling helplessly. “Please! Please don’t hurt him!”

Darix turned to glower down at me. His face looked blurry from the tears in my eyes, but I felt like I could make out cold contempt in his countenance.

“When I first started speaking in your 'English' language, I ran into a word that puzzled me,” he said, leaving Tobey and sauntering over to me. “I believe it has to do with a strange dependence that humans have on certain components of their planet's atmosphere…”

He looked down at me, and I stared back at him, bewildered and scared almost senseless. What was he getting at? What was he planning on doing to Tobey? Finally, he simply asked, “Could you define the word 'asphyxiate' for me?”

I breathed out, and my heart felt like it stopped.

 _He_ _… He wouldn’t… Would he?_

“Well…?” he prodded when I didn’t answer.

I swallowed, and let my face fall to the floor. When I finally spoke, my voice was all a tremble. “Asphyxiate means… to die from lack of oxygen. A human asphyxiates when… they can't breathe.”

“Or when there's no oxygen _to_ breathe, correct?”

I said nothing and forced myself to look up. Behind Darix, Tobey was still screaming and pounding on the inside of the transparent bubble.

“Tell me something,” Darix addressed me once more, speaking suddenly louder and looking over at Tobey. “How long would it take for a human to asphyxiate in a space that small, especially if the oxygen supply is being wasted on pointless screaming and gesticulating?”

Tobey froze. His face went blank for a brief moment before the rage returned, stronger than ever. He was trembling, but there wasn't a trace of fear anywhere in his expression.

For me, it was most certainly a different story.

“No! Let him out!” Tears streamed down my face and every muscle in my body went limp. “Please! I'll do whatever you say.”

My head bowed low to the ground, and all I could do was kneel there and whimper while Darix's footsteps slowly approached me. He crouched in front of me and coldly whispered, “You love him, don't you?”

Once more, a jolt of surprise managed to cut through the myriad of terrible feelings, and I gave a faint gasp as I looked up at him. A pang deep inside me hailed an answer to his unexpected question that I didn't want to acknowledge, especially now.

“Trust me,” he said, his face and voice surprisingly earnest, “you’ll be better off if you can keep yourself from loving people. Love is a fickle and deceitful emotion. It promises happiness, but it can only deliver pain.”

He backed away from me with an expression that was hard and pitiless once more, and he pushed a button on the control panel on the wall.

“Bring the modified suit,” he instructed, and a voice answered through the speaker, “Yes, sir.”

Seconds later another crewman came into the room, holding a small medal in the shape of the Lexiconian star emblem, and he handed it to the Captain. Darix pushed another button on the panel, and in a streak of light he flashed over to Tobey before the bubble encasing him had even fully retracted into the wall. He reached down and grabbed him by the arms, then harshly thrust him up against the wall. My heart lurched in my chest as I watched, and though I continued to struggle, there was nothing more I could do.

Darix hesitated for just a moment, staring down at Tobey’s livid face, and it was only thanks to my super-hearing I heard the faintest trace of a pained gasp. It was so faint I almost couldn’t tell, but it seemed like it had come from… Darix. Then the moment was over. He slammed the emblem onto Tobey’s chest with far too much force, and Tobey gasped loud enough for _everyone_ to hear. His face contorted in pain and he crumpled to the floor, clutching his chest and gasping for breath as a Lexiconian suit like Darix's materialized on his body. I couldn’t help sobbing as I watched.

“You're currently experiencing a mild form of asphyxiation,” Darix announced, and Tobey managed a fierce glare up at him, even as he cringed at his feet struggling to breathe. “If you don't want to experience worse than that, I suggest you pay attention. The suit you're wearing contains a small supply of oxygen, which will need to be replenished daily.”

I noticed now that the helmet on Tobey's suit was bigger than mine and had a transparent face cover that connected with the suit at the neck, not unlike the helmet of an astronaut from Earth. With a shock of dread I realized that as soon as we left this ship, his life would be inextricably connected to that suit.

Darix’s tone was calm and collected as he added, “The helmet is also equipped with a tracking system that will cut off the flow of oxygen if you stray from the designated areas programmed into it. Understand?”

Tobey swallowed and took a few sharp, angry breaths.

A stab of worry pierced me as I remembered something Tobey had said.

_“I'm not afraid of getting in trouble! And I'm not afraid of running out of oxygen, either.”_

He would rather die than let Darix keep him as a prisoner. I was sure of that.

“Get these three prepared for transfer to the station,” Darix ordered. “We’ll be arriving within the hour.”

 

« ... »

 

_My heart is like wax; it has melted within Me._

— _Psalm 22:14b_

 

* * *

 

**Author's Notes:**

**-** _**Asphyxiate** _ _**—** _ **When I started writing WordGirl fanfiction several years ago, I was surprised how much I enjoyed finding opportunities to have her define words. However, when I came up with the idea for her to be forced to define a word in such a dark and cruel context, I was absolutely giddy. Yup, that** **’s how evil I am. I actually had** _**fun** _ **writing that awful scene. I hope everyone agrees with me that the setup/delivery of Darix** **’s ultimatum** _**was** _ **pretty cool, even if you didn** **’t find it fun in the least. #_#**

 **-** _**Lexiconian Spacesuits** _ _**—** _ **One thing the show does not make clear** _**at all** _ **is how the flip Becky** **’s WordGirl suit works. #_# I figure it must be some sort of standard-issue Lexiconian outfit, since it has the planet’s emblem on it and there’s an episode of the series where we can see a rack with several of them in Becky’s spaceship hideout. However, there’s absolutely** _**no** _ **explanation for how Becky can suit up simply by saying** **‘word up.’ I surmised that it had something to do with pressing an invisible button since she usually touches her chest when she transforms and that’s where the Lexicon emblem appears on the suit, but there’s also an episode where she only gets halfway through her catchphrase and ends up only half transformed into WordGirl. :{ Presumably the suit doesn’t take up physical space and that’s why it can appear on her in a flash of light, but there’s also an episode (By Jove, You've Wrecked My Robot) that establishes Becky was forced to battle wearing her normal shoes because Huggy ‘forgot to bring her boots to school.’ @.@ Yeeeeaaaaahh… I have no idea. *shrugs* As with most stuff for which the show fails to give satisfactory reasoning, I decided to go ahead and run with my** _**own** _ **reasoning. The spacesuit is somehow stored inside a** **‘medal,’ if you will, that looks like the Lexicon emblem, and when you apply intentional pressure to it, it deploys the suit on your body. I don’t have an explanation for why the medal is invisible when Becky isn’t wearing her suit, but let’s just say it has a built-in cloaking device or something. :P Since the Lexiconians don’t breathe oxygen, the standard suit is more like a uniform than a spacesuit, but Darix had one modified for Tobey to work like an astronaut suit with its own oxygen supply. *takes a deep breath* Whew! Talk about a long boring explanation of something nobody cares about anyway. -_- Does that all make sense? Gee, I hope so. Moving on!**

 **-** _**‘Time to Go Home,’ Indeed!—** _ **Lol, I had so much fun dragging these poor kids into this awful mess that by the time I got them here, I almost wondered if it would even be possible for me to get them out. XP Well, the moment of truth is at hand, and we** **’re heading into the most exciting part of the story, which incidentally was also the hardest part for me to write. Here’s hoping it was worth all the sweat and tears I poured into it. T-T**


	19. Syncretism

**Foreword:**

**I** **’m afraid I’m about to do something very unfair to you readers after ending the last chapter with that terrible cliffhanger. This chapter is all about Darix. Sorry, but you’ll have to wait until next week to find out what happens to Becky and Tobey. I’m evil that way. >:) Just so you know, though, there’s a reason why I felt the need to give Darix this chapter. Slimebag though he is, I love him. He’s a character who I put lots of time and effort into creating, and I want to make sure he has a chance to tell his story. It’s okay with me if everyone hates him, just so long as everyone also ** _**understands** _ **him.**

 

* * *

 

Syncretism [ **sing-** kri-tiz- _uh_ m] – the attempted reconciliation or union of different or opposing principles.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

_I am not a monster._

I told myself this as I stepped into my quarters, a little disturbed that I felt the need for reassurance. Granted, the way things unfolded was far from ideal. Granted, I hadn't _wanted_ to force my hand so strongly and so cruelly against the daughter of my departed colleague. Granted, I took no pleasure in the pain of children, especially when _I_ was the cause of it… However, there was nothing for it. I was doing what had to be done. For _justice_. The feelings of two adolescents and a monkey were insignificant compared to that.

And yet, I shuddered. I remembered the girl's tears and her friend's screams, and I felt remorse. I thought of the mutual devotion I saw in them, how it reminded me of my son, how I could look into that human's furious eyes and see Kyto's _face_ … and my resolve actually wavered.

 _No,_ I told myself. _No, I can do this. I_ must _do this. For Kyto. His death will have meant nothing if I allow his murderers to go unpunished._

_“Dad…”_

His voice came back to me, clear and strong and confident. He even _sounded_ like that human… or was that just my rebellious conscience playing a cruel trick on me?

_“Dad, watch this!”_

_Kyto beamed exuberantly, his soft yellow hair whipping around in the air as he flew across the wordball court. He bounced the ball back and forth between himself and the glowing letter tiles on the far wall with effortless speed. Then he twisted around in midair just shy of slamming into his team_ _’s logo and blasted into a zig-zagging pattern almost too quick to follow with the eyes. The boy practiced with skill and style, so free and energetic and happy… yet as I watched him, I could feel nothing but worry._

_He finished his routine with a flourish and returned to me with a sparkle in his eyes, not looking the slightest bit tired._

_“What do you think?” he asked. “I designed that play myself! It lets me hold onto the ball long enough to form really long words and it works pretty much no matter what letters come up.”_

_I smiled weakly and tried to force some mirth into my reply._ _“The other team won’t know what hit them.”_

_“What’s the matter, Dad?” he asked, so innocently it almost hurt._

_I took a deep breath and looked into his kind, steady eyes._ _“Kyto… the attack is going to happen soon.”_

 _My son_ _’s eyes darkened, but he said nothing._

_“Kaven is sending his daughter away on a scout ship, and I want you to go with her.”_

_“Dad—”_

_“She’s such a frail little thing, I’m sure she’d have a better chance if someone was with her to—”_

_“Dad! Don’t! You can’t use that p_ _oor gir_ _l to guilt me into leaving!_ _”_

_I froze, my tongue suddenly feeling like it was made of lead. Kyto just stared at me with angry eyes, his hands balled into fists at his sides, but only for a moment before his face fell and the sadness overwhelmed him as well. We both stood there staring at the ground, each cumbered under a different burden, until I finally found the strength to speak again._

_“Why, Kyto? I don’t understand… The danger is enormous. Kaven and I_ have _to stay because of our positions, but_ _… you’re only fifteen years old. There’s no reason why you should stay.”_

_Kyto took a deep breath and looked back up at me. His expression had softened with sympathy, but I could tell that my words had not swayed his resolve. For no reason that I could discern, he smiled and flew back out onto the wordball court. Slowly. As though beckoning me to follow him. Puzzled though I was, I did follow._

_“I remember when you first explained to me how this game works,” he said, tenderly resting his palm against one of the blank score tiles that would be lit up with a letter during a match. “’The tiles light up with random letters from thousands of languages, and the object of the game is to shoot the ball into the tiles and form words,’ you said. ‘It’s a symbol of pride to our people because it’s a game that no one besides a Lexiconian could play.’”_

_I narrowed my eyes at him, wondering what his point was. With a warm smile, he looked me in the eyes and said,_ _“Dad, don’t you think it’s strange that Lexicon, of all planets, doesn’t have its own official spoken language?”_

_I stared for a long moment at my boy, still mystified. I was starting to think he was trying to change the subject and sweep my concerns aside, but this seemed like an odd way to do it._

_“I mean, I guess I_ kind of _understand,_ _” he added with a shrug. “My teacher says that we were capable of space travel before we even invented spaceships, so we came in contact with foreign languages in our early history… and since we can understand any word we hear, we never really needed a language of our own. Our people always just adopted the language of whoever they were talking to.”_

 _I heaved an exasperated sigh and decided to cave. If he wanted to talk about linguistics, we would talk about linguistics. We were Lexiconians after all._ _“Well,” I inserted, “we_ did _develop a universal_ written _language once it became necessary for us to be able to standardize written texts._ _”_

_“True! But that’s not the point,” my son said with a finger stuck knowingly into the air. The gesture was so endearing in its impetuousness that I couldn’t help but smile, even as I frowned._

_“Then what_ is _your point?_ _” I sneered, crossing my arms in front of me._

 _Kyto brought down his finger, his smile crumbling as he did so, and he looked once more around us at the dim, quiet, empty stadium._ _“Wordball has been declining in popularity these past few years… I feel like our people are losing their sense of identity. That’s why people like the Zymians are able to push us around. They can tell we aren’t a unified people that know who we are.”_

 _He had clenched his fists again, but his face looked more solemn or frustrated than angry._ _“I have to stay here, Dad. I may only be fifteen, but I’m the kind of person Lexicon needs, now more than ever. I have to help our people hold onto who they are in the midst of the onslaught. There’s no point in surviving if we let them take our purpose away from us.” He looked up at me one last time, his passion and determination practically radiating from his smile. “Do you understand now?”_

 _I heaved a deep sigh, overflowing with pride and worry and admiration and fear and_ _—oh, far more emotions than I could count. However, my confusion, at least, had finally been put to rest._

_“Yes,” I said, though the words felt like poison on my tongue. “I understand, Kyto.”_

 

« ... »

 

I stood there in front of my desk, thinking back on what I’d told WordGirl about love. She probably thought I’d said it just to be cruel, and if so, that was fine with me. I was sorry to lose her genuine heartfelt loyalty, but at this point,  it was better if she feared me. That way it would be easier for me to get what I needed from her. Still… I wished there was some way to prove to her that I had meant every word.

Love _was_ a deceitful emotion, and she _would_ be better off without it. I was sure of that. After all, what had love ever yielded for me? I loved my wife, who had ultimately abandoned me, and I loved my son, whose stubborn refusal to abandon his people had, in an ironic twist of cruel fate, been the very thing that had ultimately taken _him_ away from me as well. Now I had only the memories—the scars that love had left behind. Love was far more painful than it was worth. I would rather have justice.

I heard my doors open behind me and turned to see my chief pilot storm inside. Her flaming red hair matched the furious glare on her face as she looked me defiantly in the eyes.

“What was _that_ all about?” she asked—in English, I noticed. I hadn’t expected that tradition to hold once WordGirl had gone from ‘honored guest’ to ‘unwilling captive.’ The crew had decided when we first set out to retrieve the girl that we would speak exclusively in English for the duration of the mission—to remind us all of how different this child was from a typical Lexiconian child and of how essential she was to our cause. Of course, switching to another language was as comfortable and natural for Lexiconians as breathing was for humans. The one exception to this was WordGirl, which was ironic since she was the only Lexiconian I had ever heard of who grew up on a planet where so many different languages were spoken. She was indeed an enigma, that child. For _any_ Lexiconian to stay in one city and have no desire to explore the Earth and its millions of words in thousands of tongues, she must truly have grown attached to the people who raised her.

“What?” I asked back at my crewman, trying to sound uncaring.

“That little ‘show of force’ you did back there,” she clarified, indignantly pointing behind her. “I was under the impression that we were trying to _protect_ that poor girl’s future!”

I tensed. “I wanted to protect her as much as possible, but it was necessary. There was no way to maintain the subterfuge, and little chance she would continue to cooperate voluntarily. I had no choice but to coerce her.”

“Pretty extreme method of coercion,” she commented.

“Your point?” I muttered, teeth grit in annoyance. “ _I_ was under the impression that you understood the lengths to which we might have to go.”

Her glare broke with surprise for a moment, and she flinched. It was enough to give me a tiny rush of satisfaction to counterbalance my dejection.

“We all agreed,” I reminded, “that we would do whatever it takes… and time is running out.”

“I _know_ ,” she snapped, clenching her fists in frustration as her eyes welled with tears. “But… for pity’s sake, Captain, this is… _horrible_.”

“I won’t argue with that,” I said with a somber sigh.

“You were terrifying in there,” she added, her face a confusing blend of sadness and disgust. “You were… so ruthless.”

Her words unsettled me more than I wanted to admit, and I swallowed instead of offering a reply. I drew a sharp breath, fixing a frustrated glare on my subordinate. Curse her bluntness, but the jolt of reality was in order, I supposed. Like a splash of cold water to someone who needed to wake up.

“I’ll be as ruthless as I need to be,” I said at last, “to secure the future of my people.”

Yes… That was the point of all this. I had to keep reminding myself that this wasn’t about me, _or_ those unfortunate children. It was about justice, and the fate of the entire Lexiconian race.

My pilot took a sharp breath and drew up her face in a conflicted frown. “Well... As long as you're being honest with yourself.”

 _H_ _onest with yourself..._

Those words had also unsettled me more than I wanted to admit.

Her departure was as wroth as her arrival had been. As she blasted through my doors and out into the corridor she nearly collided with another crewman, who shied back to let her pass. He said nothing and turned to look at me with a distant, unreadable expression on his face—one that I had seen a dozen times before. Gray held my gaze until the doors closed, and out of nowhere, I experienced a chilling, irrational sensation of being cut off from _everyone_.

I leaned back against my desk, fending off a sudden wave of nausea.

 _I'm not a monster,_ I told myself again, clenching my fingers tighter on the cold metal behind me.

 

« ... »

 

_Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good._

— _Romans 12:21_

 

* * *

 

**Author's Notes:**

**-** _**Wordball** _ _**—** _ **Whaddaya think? Does my made-up sport feel sufficiently Lexiconian? Were you able to get a decent image of it from my frail attempt at describing it? :} I** **’m not much for sports, but I just** _**loved** _ **the idea of using a Lexiconian sport as a backdrop for Darix** **’s flashback.**

 **-** _**The Lexiconian Language** _ _**—** _ **The idea I presented in this chapter for how the Lexiconian language works is based on the supposition that the ability to understand any language upon hearing it is a standard Lexiconian superpower. My headcanon about how Lexicon has their own written language but not a spoken one came from a brainstorming session I had with my brother when we were trying to figure out the language logistics of the story. For a while it looked like I might not find an opportunity to explain it in the story, but then I had the idea to make it a part of this Darix chapter, and I** **’m pretty happy with how it turned out. :)**

 **-** _**‘…not willing that any should perish…’—** _ **My journey with Darix has been an interesting one. In the first draft he was basically just a vehicle for the plot and was cruel and sadistic just because. When I started work on the second draft, however, I realized that wasn** **’t good enough for me. The more I write, the more the process reminds me of my heavenly Father, and the relationship between God and people that the Bible talks about. God is like a writer telling an enormous story in which every human being is a character. The thing is, He loves** _**all** _ **of us** **—even those of us who go down the path of a** **‘villain’ and do heinous, terrible things. The Author of our story still loves us. He will give us or just deserts in the end if we don’t repent, and He won’t prevent us from suffering the consequences of our mistakes, but He still loves us. And this is the philosophy that I try to adhere to when writing for _all_ of my characters—even my villains. I may not be able to save them, but I still have to love them. It can make for a really sad writing experience, but it also makes for a better story, and I think it even helps me to understand how God feels when he says things like, “How can I let you go? … How can I destroy you?” in Hosea 11:8. “My heart is torn within me, and my compassion overflows.” I couldn’t have said it better myself. T-T**

 **-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“Hymn for the Missing” by Red—** _ **This isn** **’t the type of song typically applied to villains, but honestly, that’s one of the reasons I chose it. It’s not about what’s happening right now, with Becky, and Lexicon, and the Zymians. It’s about what happened years ago, when Darix lost the only person in the universe who he still loved. It’s about the grief he couldn’t deal with that ultimately led him to where he is now. It’s about a Darix who there might’ve been hope for, if he’d made different choices. :(**

 **-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“Lie to Me” by Red—** _ **Red sure is good for angsty theme songs. DX This one is a bit weird because Darix is the second person in the lyrics, but once you get that idea in your head, it** **’s a perfect fit. I guess it’s what I imagine his son would tell him if he could… that he’s** _**not** _ **being honest with himself and what he** **’s doing is wrong, but it’s not too late for him to let go of his anger, pain, and hate, and make things** _**right** _ **.**


	20. Restive

Restive [ **res** -tiv] – impatient of control, restraint, or delay; restless; uneasy.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

Service Droid 91801 hummed to life and disconnected from the standby rack. About time. How long had it been since it had been given an assignment? It must have been at least 500 hours. A data packet containing its directive entered its central processor, and the little robot promptly rumbled over to the designated cargo container. It hoisted the lighter-than-normal package onto its rack-back, then headed for the aft bay door, which was already open and laying out as a ramp into the interior of the space station. Perfect. That would make the journey to the detention wing much more direct.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

I stumbled forward as I was shoved into the holding cell, and spun around only to see that Darix's thugs had already activated an energy shield at the entrance. Apparently the 'Ambassador' wasn't taking any chances, even knowing I couldn't go anywhere without suffocating.

It didn't matter, though. That snake was crazy as well as stupid if he thought I was going to let him use me against Becky. After all he'd done, he'd be lucky if I let him _live_. The lying scum had taken advantage of her compassionate heart, manipulated her into leaving Earth, lured her out here where he knew she would be defenseless and alone, and on top of all that, now he was threatening _me_ in order to _force_ her to cooperate with him.

I shuddered with rage. I could feel all the progress I'd made learning to control my anger evaporate away without resistance. No putrid pile of festering slime unworthy of the carbon that composed him was going to do this to my Becky and get away with it! I was going to make him pay dearly for this, and I wouldn't feel the slightest bit of remorse afterward.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

With hot tears still stinging my eyes, I struggled at the limits of my strength against my restraints. Darix's lackeys had brought me to the medical bay on the space station and shackled my waist, wrists, and ankles into a surgical bed. After throwing Huggy into a cage behind me, they had left us alone in the dim, frightening room, surrounded by humming alien machines and walls that somehow blocked my super-hearing.

They had taken Tobey somewhere else entirely, ignoring my desperate pleas not to be separated from him. There was no telling what was happening to him right now. For all I knew they could be torturing him as punishment for blowing the whistle on their operation, or he could be suffocating in a room somewhere in an ill-conceived escape attempt. He could be dying right now, and there wasn't a thing I could do about it.

Finally I gave up, laying limp against the bed and letting loose a few desperate sobs. I felt like I was on fire… or drowning. How could I have let this happen? Not only had I gotten myself in this mess, but now both Tobey and Huggy's lives were on the line too. This was what they got for caring about me.

I heard a sharp simian yell, and continued to weep in my bonds. “It's no use, Huggy… I can't break free.”

Captain Huggyface banged on the bars of his cage, shrieking at me that I couldn't give up, and that we had to keep trying to find a way out of this.

I moaned in despair and closed my eyes. “I know that! But what am I supposed to do? I can't even move.”

I'd been in immobilizing traps like this more times than I could count, but never before had I felt so utterly helpless. This wasn't another garden-variety villain trying to crush an evacuated City Hall or turn the moon into cheese. This was a true killer from among my own kind, who used other people's love and compassion as a tool to get what he wanted. If I didn't prove useful as a spy, who was to say he wouldn’t murder Tobey and Huggy out of spite? And all because I was born with super-hearing! Maybe It would have been better for everyone if that cursed gene had killed me as a small child like it was supposed to.

With a groan of heartbroken frustration I slammed my head back against the surface of the hard bed, and felt a sharp pinch as the metal headband under my helmet raked across my scalp.

My eyes flew open, and I gasped. “Cuddlepie!”

Why hadn’t I thought of it earlier? The little robot dog that Tobey had given to me as a parting gift was still tucked away in my pocket, miniaturized so that he was safely hidden from view. I remembered with a rush of hope that he could be controlled remotely by a neural interface device—a device which I was wearing _right now_.

I turned my eyes up to my sidekick's cage and urgently asked, “Huggy, can you reach my helmet?”

He smiled, instantly comprehending. He reached a hand through the bars of his cage and stretched his arm out toward me. I lengthened my body and strained to get as close to him as I could. Finally I felt a burst of cool air rush over my head as my helmet came off, and I laughed in relief. Huggy ran his finger across my headband without needing to be told, and the little neural interface screen which I had seen only once before appeared in front of my eyes. Cuddlepie tickled my waist as he began moving around in my pocket, causing me to fidget… and, despite the peril of the situation, even to giggle. My word, how long had it been since I’d laughed? I was amazed at how good it felt. Soon the black screen turned into a picture of the ceiling, and the robot puppy popped his head out from under my belt, sticking out his little tongue and barking happily.

Trembling with anticipation, I propped up my head so I could see the panel by the wall that Darix had pressed to activate my restraints. In my mind I commanded Cuddlepie, and immediately he jumped down from the bed, scampered across the floor, and changed to his larger size before leaping up and bonking his head against the panel. A loud beep issued from the button he'd pressed, and the shackles instantly withdrew into the bed. Just like that, I was free!

I zipped into the air, choking back a cry of ecstasy. I might kiss Tobey the next time I saw him.

Cuddlepie barked in excitement and ran in a circle, like he knew he'd done something good. I scooped up the chipper little pup and hugged him to my cheek, then flashed over to Captain Huggyface and easily bent apart the bars of his cage. He jumped into my arms and climbed into tactical position on my back, cheering that he knew I could do it.

However, now that the momentary thrill of our small victory had passed, we had to set our minds to what would likely be a nearly impossible task. I swallowed hard and watched the door to the medical bay with deep worry. Even if I could find Tobey in this awful place, how were the three of us going to escape from a space station manned entirely by evil Lexiconians?

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

Service Droid 91801 rumbled steadily along the scantly populated corridors of the space station, grateful for the ease of travel as it continued methodically toward its designated drop-off point. Amidst the usual sights of Lexiconians occasionally buzzing to and fro, one unusual entity scuttled into view. It was an artificial life form—perhaps another type of service bot—although it was oddly small and resembled an animal. Service Droid 91801 paid the entity no mind and passed it by. It was probably some new model of information-transport bot, and there was no time to waste wondering about such things when there was cargo to deliver. After a few seconds, the tiny robot scampered along behind in pursuit, then jumped up onto 91801’s storage rack and withdrew into the space behind its cargo container. Service Droid 91801 was a little curious but still paid it no mind.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

“Are you sure that's the robot Tobey was working with?” I asked Huggy as we huddled nervously in the corner of the medical bay. He chirped regretfully that he didn't know, handing me back my headband.

I sighed as I put it on and cautiously turned my attention to watching the video feed from Cuddlepie's viewpoint while Huggy took over keeping guard on the door to the medical bay. Someone could come into the room at any moment, and if that happened we'd have no choice but to bolt. Since this was a Lexiconian station, I could probably fly around fast enough to avoid being recognized and still not draw much attention. However, it would be dangerous to do that with no destination in mind. I’d have to stop _sometime_ , after all, and there was no telling how long I’d have before someone noticed I wasn’t strapped into my bed anymore.

“Let's just hope it is,” I said, carefully memorizing the path Cuddlepie observed while he rode on the back of the bigger robot. If this thing _did_ lead my dog to Tobey, I needed to be sure I could get there myself.

 _Please, Tobey,_ I worried, sweating as I clutched at my pounding heart. _Please be okay_ _…_

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

Once more I pounded my fists against the wall of my cell, huffing out an angry breath that fogged up the visor of my helmet. It might have been hours since they'd thrown me in here, and I was still no closer to finding a way to get through that energy shield. My intelligence didn't matter without tools, and I couldn't get to my tools with that barrier in the way, but there just wasn't a way to disable it with my bare hands.

I groaned in frustration and sank to the floor, fighting to hold onto my determination. I had to think of something. Becky's life was at stake… and Bob's too, come to think of it. I never thought I'd find myself worrying about that monkey.

Biting my lip, I stood to my feet and once more gazed intently at the red wall of streaming energy in front of me. Just beyond it, the doors to the brig slid open, and my cargo droid rolled in right on schedule. It was a mixed blessing. On the one hand, I was glad to know that the mini receiver I’d hidden in the lining of my pocket had worked. On the other, now that my droid had arrived, timing was suddenly _critical_. All my important technology was inside its cargo container, close enough to touch, but if I couldn't do something about this blasted shield before someone came in, then—

Suddenly I heard an odd-sounding squeak, and the tiny form of the robot dog I'd given Becky hopped up onto the head of the service bot.

I blinked in surprise. “Cuddlepie?”

The dog wagged its tail and looked around, barking victoriously. A few seconds later the doors opened again, and a Lexiconian flashed into the room. I gasped as a gut-clenching fear soured my stomach, but then I heard her familiar voice say my name.

“Tobey!”

“Becky?” I'd never been so glad to see her in my life. Bob was on her shoulders, and he gave a happy chirp. There was no time to celebrate, though. We weren't even close to being out of the woods yet. I pointed to the panel on the wall behind her and quickly instructed, “There! See if you can turn off the energy shield on my cell.”

“Right!” She immediately zipped over to the panel and scanned it furiously.

It was Bob who piped up first, and he reached out and pushed a few buttons in sequence. The buzz of electricity went quiet, and the shield covering my cell vanished.

I didn't even have time to smile in relief before Becky flashed over to me, lifted me off the ground, and squeezed me tightly in her arms.

“You're okay,” she rasped, whimpering and trembling. “Oh, thank _God_.”

I was paralyzed with joy for a moment, but then remembered the impending threat and reluctantly forced myself to push her away and drop back down to the ground.

“We have to hurry,” I said, scrambling over to the cargo bot and pulling the container off its back. Once it was open I quickly laid out its contents on the floor and handed the empty container to Bob. “See if you can get a schematic of the space station on that panel.”

Bob saluted and rolled the cylindrical container over to the wall, where he set it up as a stool for himself and hopped up to begin working the panel.

Meanwhile, I started up my computer and turned to the cargo droid, interfacing with its system to program in a new directive. When I was finished it trundled off, and I grabbed Becky's wrist and pulled her out of view of the doors as they opened to let the robot out of the room.

“Where's he going?” Becky asked.

“No time to explain,” I said, already glued to my computer and typing away at my next task. I couldn't go anywhere with that 'shock collar' feature that Darix had programmed into my suit. But if my suit was programmed, then it could be _re_ programmed.

“ _Darn_ it!” I exclaimed. “I can't interface with the suit's system! I think the material it's made from is blocking the wireless signal from my computer.”

Becky's face darkened, and she worried at her lip. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Take a look at the back of my helmet,” I instructed. “See if there's a spot where it can open up without breaking the oxygen seal.”

Becky got behind me, and after a brief moment, she said, “I see it, but the seam is too small. I don't think I can open it without damaging the helmet.”

I growled in despair, and my heart sank with fear for the first time as I recognized what I would have to do.

“Okay,” I breathed in bitter resignation, turning around to look Becky in the eyes. “Then you and Bob are going have to escape without me.”

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

Service Droid 91801 was excited. Two assignments back-to-back. What a treat! It would have to perform this second task as efficiently as possible. Maybe that strange glass-eyed person would trust it to do more assignments in the future. The less time it spent on that dusty storage rack, the better.

The lights came on in Storage Room 2 as Service Droid 91801 rolled inside. It panned its optic across the interior of the area, checking to make sure the path to its assigned cargo was clear. Blipping with satisfaction, it moved directly to Row 14 and stopped in front of the middle of Shelf 3. The cylindrical container it had been instructed to deliver was a strange one to be bringing aboard a ship, but Service Droid 91801 wasn’t here to ask questions. It loaded up its cargo, turned around, and continued happily on to its next drop-off point.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

Bob turned from his panel and ran over to us, shrieking in protest.

“What?” I whispered in disbelief. I could feel the blood draining from my face.

“I can create a diversion from here,” Tobey calmly explained. “You get to Darix's ship and—”

“No!” I frowned insistently, curling my fingers into stubborn fists. I couldn't believe he was even _suggesting_ this. Did he really think Bob and I would leave him in the clutches of that malefactor Darix while we fled like cowards? Back on Earth, I had routinely risked my life for people I didn't even know, and Tobey was _dreaming_ if he thought I would do any less for someone as precious to me as he was. I would die before I would abandon him, and I knew without even looking at Huggy that he would too.

Tobey bit his lip and heaved a frustrated sigh. “Becky, you _have_ to,” he explained in a steady voice. “I'll die if I leave, and you'll be a prisoner for life if you stay!”

“Forget it, Tobey,” I unwaveringly stated. “I'd _rather_ be a prisoner for life than leave you behind!”

I folded my arms and Bob copied the gesture, chirping in agreement.

Tobey frowned sharply, trembling as he kept his eyes locked on mine. “Becky, _please_. This is the only way I can think of.”

“Then we'll think of a _different_ way,” I insisted.

Tobey's expression changed suddenly, like he'd thought of something. “A different… way?”

A swell of hope rose up in me, but it was swallowed up by panic when Tobey reached for the star emblem on his chest.

“No!” I exclaimed, seizing both of his wrists. If he deactivated his suit, he would suffocate. Would he really go that far? I was so terrified at the possibility, I couldn't find the capacity for gratitude. I didn't care _how_ hopeless the situation was, I wouldn't let him do this! But if he was determined, could I really stop him? “Tobey, you can't!” I begged, my heart pounding inside my chest. “Please!”

He met my eyes, looking confused for a moment, then pulled uselessly against my grip and snapped in response, “Becky, relax, I'm not trying to kill myself! I have an idea.”

My dread subsided a little, and I hesitantly released Tobey's hands. I felt queasy as I watched him draw a long, deep breath, and found myself holding my own breath as he pressed the activation star. A bright flash of light left him back in his normal clothes, and he quickly pulled something from behind his ear, handed it to me, and once more touched his chest where the star had been. The suit reappeared as quickly as it had vanished, and we both exhaled in relief.

“Glad the catchphrase wasn't necessary,” he said, once more fixing his gaze on the screen of his computer. “See if you can use that to open my helmet,”

I looked down at the object he had given to me and raised an eyebrow in surprise when I saw that it was a bobby pin. Shrugging off my confusion, I zipped once more behind Tobey and inserted his pin into the groove I'd found on the back of his helmet. After a few moments I heard a click, and a section of the helmet's outer shell popped up.

“Got it,” I announced.

“ _Yes!_ I have access,” Tobey quietly exclaimed. “You were right, Becky! Those things _are_ useful!”

I blinked, flummoxed as to what he meant. I'd have to ask him about it later… assuming there _was_ a later.

After a few anxious moments of watching him work with his computer, a loud beep incited Tobey to throw up his hands.

“I did it,” he announced. “I reset the oxygen protocol!”

I smiled, heart soaring in relief. “I knew you could do it.”

“Don't celebrate yet,” Tobey said, his tone serious. “We still have to get out of here.”

 

« ... »

 

_You have also given me the shield of Your salvation; Your right hand has held me up, Your gentleness has made me great._

— _Psalm 18:35_

 

* * *

 

**Author's Notes:**

**-** _**Cut & Paste** _ _**—** _ **I** **’m still a little concerned about the length of this chapter. :S I mean, it’s not like I’ve never done a chapter this long before, but I’ve never done one this long that had so many segments and POV switches. Believe it or not, in the original draft this whole mess was actually broken up into _three_ chapters. They were all pitifully short, but there were three of them. I decided to combine them, not just because they were all too short on their own, but because I liked the juxtaposition of Becky and Tobey each using a gift the other gave them to get free from their respective restraints, and I thought having both developments happen in the same chapter would help accentuate the serendipity of it. :)**

 **-** _**Service Droid 91801** _ _**—** _ **I** **’m pretty sure this little guy was my brother’s idea, and I must say, I’ve had a lot of fun with him. XP We wanted his ‘viewpoint,’ if you will, to be a really stark break in the mood—from the tense, 'what-are-we-gonna-do-now?' suspense of the main characters, to this casual, careless milling-about of the robot that Tobey programmed to run errands for him. Since I’d already cornered myself into writing the whole story in first-person, I thought the perfect way to make these short little 91801 scenelets feel set apart would be to break from my established pattern and do his bits in good old fashioned third-person. ;P**

 **-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“Be My Escape” by Relient K** _ **— Figurative** _**and** _ **literal** **… for Becky** _**and** _ **Tobey. ;)**


	21. Parallax

_ **Hey, readers! This chapter references the episodes 'Tobey Goes Good' and '** _ _**Tobey or Consequences** _ _**.'** _

 

* * *

 

Parallax [ **par** - _uh_ -laks] – the apparent displacement of an observed object due to a change in the position of the observer.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

Tobey resumed typing into his computer, explaining as he went, “I'm instructing my Mars Robot Colony to approach and attack the station. Hopefully, by the time they arrive, we'll have commandeered a ship and their attack will cover our escape.”

I just stared at him, dumbstruck. Huggy squealed curiously, and I automatically responded, “Commandeer means to take over. Tobey, did you say 'Mars Robot Colony'?”

Tobey nodded. “I've had them following us at a safe distance since we left Earth.”

“What—But—” I stuttered. “Since when have you had a robot colony on Mars?”

Tobey raised an eyebrow at me and murmured, “Remember? Fifth grade? Invention contest?” He averted his eyes and sourly added, “It lost to your _egg slicer_.”

At a rare loss for words, I just hovered there stupefied. To think that Tobey was still bitter about that dumb contest and he could summon up that bitterness even in a situation like this. When he told me that he was a 'very sore loser' four years ago, he really wasn't kidding.

“Bob, did you find that schematic?” he asked, turning his attention to my sidekick.

Huggy gave him a thumbs-up, pointing to the panel on the wall where a diagram of the space station was displayed across the large screen. The three of us crowded together in front of the image, frantically studying the map of our prison, looking for any information that would assist us in staging a prison break.

The station was one big circle, full of rooms and concentric corridors that ringed around a large room in the middle. The aerial view looked similar to a dart board.

“It looks like we're here,” I said, pointing to a room in the lower-left quadrant of the map. Huggy squeaked and pointed to the outer edge of the map, and I translated, “Darix's ship is docked here.”

“That big room in the middle,” Tobey commented, “That's the Central Control Room?”

Huggy nodded and added a string of chimp-speak, which I translated. “It's also where the station's power core is located.”

Tobey looked contemplative for a moment, then put his finger on the map, touching the room where we were. “Let's head up this way,” he said, tracing a roundabout path leading up to the north docking port. “We're out-manned and outgunned, so we have to try for stealth. If you use your super-hearing to avoid running into anyone, we might be able to get to the ship without being seen.”

“What if we _are_ seen?” I asked.

Tobey looked at me and simply stated, “We'll have to improvise.”

He returned to the pile of gadgets he'd left on the floor and picked up what looked like some kind of gun, then loaded it up with a few spherical metal projectiles.

“What's that?” I muttered, a little scared to hear the answer.

“I used some shield generators I found to make concussion grenades,” Tobey replied, sounding proud of himself. “The blast should send anything it comes in contact with flying at about two hundred meters per second.”

With that he heaved the grenade launcher over his shoulder, using an improvised wire sling, and then gathered up his miniaturized battle robot along with a few disc-shaped gizmos which he proceeded to tuck up his sleeve.

I swallowed. “And _those_ are...?”

“Breaching charges.”

“Naturally.”

Maybe our chances of escape weren't as bad as I'd feared.

I barely had time to smile with newfound hope when the door opened. The three of us froze. Heart pounding, I looked up.

Gray was hovering in the doorway. He too appeared to have frozen, but he was looking right at us. His face, as always, was expressionless. I swallowed, and my muscles tensed with apprehension. On my left, Huggy made a low growl and coiled to spring, while on my right, Tobey tightened his grip on his weapon. Was this it? Would it all end here in one final, desperate, hopeless stand?

I swallowed and met Gray’s gaze. I meant to challenge him with a defiant glare, but in spite of myself, I could only look pleadingly into his eyes, my lower lip trembling. I was ready to fight alongside my friends, but I knew that it would be a hopeless fight. Tobey’s robots were on their way, but they wouldn’t do us any good if we were all dead by the time they arrived. All Gray had to do was shout for backup, and I would never see Huggy or Tobey again.

A few unbearable seconds passed in sheer silence. Then, Gray’s countenance shifted—a show of emotion so subtle that it might have been imperceptible had it not been an upgrade from no emotion at all. His brow furrowed so very slightly, and his lips pressed harder together. His eyes seemed to flash, though I wondered if I’d just imagined it. However, even through this crack in his facade, it was impossible to see what he was thinking. Was he surprised? Impressed? Angry? Did it even matter?

Gray stayed still and silent for a moment. Then, he turned and left without a word.

I blinked. Tobey and Huggy were evidently as speechless as I was, and for the next moment, the room was silent as a graveyard.

It was Tobey who finally broke the ice by asking, “What was _that_?”

Huggy chirped that he didn’t know, and I was too flabbergasted to translate for him.

“Do you think he’s going to turn us in?” Tobey asked. “Or is he really just… letting us go?”

Huggy chirped a follow-up question that I was once again too thunderstruck to translate. I did, however, have the presence of mind to answer. “I’m not sure if he’s good _or_ evil,” I murmured. “I think he’s just… real.”

My friends both gave me confused looks, and I couldn’t blame them. I hardly understood what I was saying myself, but I felt like I was onto something all the same. Thinking back on my few interactions with Gray, I realized something. Of all the people in Darix’s crew, he was the only one whose treatment of me had remained consistent. Everyone else had been kind, sympathetic, and gentle with me at first, then had suddenly become hard and ruthless once I’d discovered the truth. Gray, however… he was different. He was cold and indifferent even before I’d known about Darix’s plan, and he remained cold and indifferent to this very moment. His taciturn, standoffish demeanor had never been welcoming or comforting… but it had been genuine.

Tobey shrugged. “Well, there’s no time to worry about it. Either he turns us in or he doesn’t. Regardless, we still need to escape as soon as possible.”

I nodded, still staring at the spot where Gray had just been.

Huggy solemnly hopped up onto my back. I floated behind Tobey and grasped him around his chest, then lifted him up off the ground, and just like that, it was time to go. I took a deep breath, hugging Tobey tightly whilst my eyes remained fixed on our only way out. I knew we weren’t safe where we were, but I was still terrified to go through that door. It could lead us to freedom or death indiscriminately. I heard nothing outside, but my heart still pounded as I approached the exit. I could feel Huggy’s fingers digging into my shoulders. The door slid open automatically and I poked my head through, cautiously glancing out into the corridor.

I nearly gasped when I saw Gray standing just a few paces away, pushing buttons on a console in the wall. He glanced askance at me without moving his head, then silently drifted away, disappearing around the hallway’s inward curve.

No one in my little trio of escapees dared say anything, but I knew we were all thinking the same thing. Despite my mounting fear, a flicker of comfort quieted me for a moment. Gray was, without a doubt, the last person I would’ve expected to look out for us. Funny.

 _Thank you,_ said my heart. _Thank you so much._ I only wished I could have called it out to him.

Taking one last deep breath, I tuned my super-hearing into high-gear and zipped off, following the route Tobey had planned for us.

 

« ... »

 

 _There is a time for everything_ _… a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent, and a time to speak, at time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace._

— _Ecclesiastes 3:1a, 7-8_

 

* * *

 

**Author's Notes:**

**-** **“It lost to your egg slicer.”— Tobey is referring to the talent show from ‘Tobey Goes Good.’ In that episode, Tobey sent a robot to Mars to colonize it as a demonstration of how his creations could benefit mankind, and he still somehow lost to a kitchen utensil that Becky and Violet entered.**

 **-** **‘a very sore loser’— A tiny little reference, but I’ll explain it anyway. After Tobey lost to Becky in ‘Tobey or Consequences,’ he smugly told her that he’s ‘a very sore loser.’ And although he laughed afterward, he clearly wasn’t kidding. :P**

 **-** _**Gray Area** _ _**—** _ **Now that all the cards are on the table, I might as well tell you guys the background behind Gray. He actually wasn** **’t in the original draft. The idea for him came from a conversation about revisions. I didn’t want the story to leave readers with the impression that Lexiconians are all awful people and Becky is wildly different from the rest of her race. I wanted there to be some representation of how Lexiconians as a people can be as diverse as humans, and I wanted to introduce another member of Darix’s crew, anyway, so that it wouldn’t seem as though Darix is the only person on his ship with any dimension and the rest of his crew are just soulless pawns in his evil scheme. My sister remembered a scene from a movie where the main characters get caught doing something illegal by some guy who they don’t even know, and then the guy turns a blind eye and doesn’t blow their cover. The way she described the scene sounded so cool and interesting, and I loved the idea of having something similar happen in this story, if only to show that these people really are** _**people** _ **and that just because they** **’re complicit with Darix’s methods doesn’t mean they don’t have any conscience about them. This desire to bring out the ‘humanity’ of these Lexiconians ended up manifesting in other ways besides Gray, too—like the pilot from chapter** **21** **who confronted Darix about the extremeness of his actions, but ultimately did even less about it than Gray, who said nothing. I definitely could** **’ve done a better job than I did if I’d had more time and less going on in my life, but I’m still happy that my efforts to paint Darix and his crew in shades of gray made them all feel a lot more real than they did in the first iteration of the story. :)**


	22. Hydra

**Foreword:**

**Okay, everyone, here we are at the climax! I** **’m so excited to actually be here after working on this story for so long. XD I hope it’s worth the wait. :) Just FYI, since we’re in the briskly-paced, action-packed part of the story, the next few chapters will mostly be pretty short. :( On the bright side, however, I** _**think** _ **I** **’ll be able to start posting a chapter every week again. XD Fingers crossed!**

 

* * *

 

Hydra [ **hahy** -dr _uh_ ] – a persistent or many-sided problem that presents new obstacles as soon as one aspect is solved.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

So far so good. We had made it out of the detention room without being noticed, and now I began carefully navigating through the perilous interior of the space station.

Huggy silently clung to my back while I carried Tobey, holding him firmly around his chest. Without really meaning to, I found myself cleaving to him as though he might slip through my fingers, and I was so tense that I had to be mindful of how tight I squeezed him. He'd already elbowed me in the stomach more than once to let me know that I was making it hard for him to breathe, and I felt a stab of ironic guilt each time.

I ducked into a shadowed alcove with a sigh of relief, relaxing my grip on Tobey, and he inhaled sharply.

“I'm sorry,” I whispered shamefully.

“It's okay,” he rasped, reaching up and giving my hand a comforting squeeze.

The next corridor was a long one with no side passages. I needed to make sure it was clear and that there was no one near the end before we could safely pass through. Closing my eyes and listening intently ahead of us, I waited.

“Now,” I whispered, and jetted through the corridor in a searing flash.

Right at the end of the tunnel, I collided with an energy shield. Tobey yelped as I dropped him. Bob remained on my back, but moaned nervously, asking what we were going to do now.

“Oh, no,” I murmured. “Should we double back and find another route?”

Tobey jumped to his feet and looked up at the shield, frowning in determination. “One of my charges would probably disable this thing, but someone would _definitely_ notice it.”

So we had to choose between increased risk of being caught and certainty of being noticed. I didn't like either of those options.

“I don't know, Tobey… Do you think it's worth it?” I gasped, hearing someone talking near the opening of our corridor. “Guys, someone's—”

“Hey!” An unfamiliar voice shouted, and we all looked back to see a Lexiconian frowning right at us.

“It's worth it,” Tobey said, and he planted a beeping disc on the wall by the force field.

My protective instincts kicked in and I yanked Tobey to the opposite side of the hallway, shielding both him and Captain Huggyface as the charge exploded. The corridor filled with smoke, and the force field dissipated. Ignoring the commotion behind us, I grabbed my two comrades and zapped ahead.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

Service Droid 91801 stopped in its tracks as its navigation data was updated. A force field had been lowered in Corridor B14, which meant that a more direct path to the drop-off point was now available. Any opportunity to save time and fuel was a welcome one, and the little robot immediately altered its route. With a grateful beep, it backtracked to the intersection it had just passed and headed in the opposite direction.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

I heard shouting in the corridor we'd planned to follow to the docking port, so I ducked into a side passage and flew through the first door on the right, which I remembered from the schematic was some kind of storage room. Thankfully the place was deserted, and I found an isolated corner where I immediately collapsed against the wall, gasping and sweating.

“I'm so sorry,” I managed weakly, releasing my stranglehold on Bob and Tobey. “I should have noticed him sooner.”

“Becky, you did great,” Tobey reassured, struggling to catch his own breath. Bob gave me a weak thumbs-up, heaving little monkey coughs at Tobey's side.

Heartened by their encouragement, I took one last deep breath and returned my focus to the problem at hand. “The next corridor in the plan is swarming with people right now,” I announced. “They're looking for us, so it won't be long before they check this room. We can't stay and wait for them to clear out. I think we'll have to just get out there, move as fast as we can, and find another way to the ship.

“No, that won't work,” said Tobey, shaking his head. “They know we're loose. Even if we get to the ship, they won't let us get away.”

I swallowed hard. “So what do we do?”

Tobey hesitated for a thoughtful moment. If he suggested we leave him to die again, I'd have to slap him.

Finally he said, “Take us to the Central Control Room.”

Huggy chirped in surprise, and I gasped. “What? But that's where everyone will be! We'll be apprehended for sure if we go—!”

“Becky!” Tobey grabbed my shoulders and looked severely into my eyes. “ _Trust_ me!”

I swallowed hard, remembering the moment when I'd resolved to do just that. The moment when he had told me that he loved me. Tobey knew what he was doing, and he wanted more than anything to protect me. If he was telling me to do something dangerous, there had to be a good reason. I just needed to have faith in him.

“Okay,” I said, swallowing my doubts. I once more floated behind him and took a wavering breath as I hugged him around his chest. Fear rose up in my heart as I listened to his brisk pulse, and I recognized the real reason why I kept squeezing him so tight that I nearly crushed him. Was it really only two years ago that I had dreaded our every encounter? And now here I was, scared to death that I might lose him. I pressed my face to his back and bit a trembling lip as Huggy jumped onto _my_ back. He gave a sympathetic moan and hugged my neck, chirping that he was sure we'd make it. His tone, however, was anything but sure.

I swallowed, tuning my ears once more to the halls outside. “All right,” I said, clamping my hands together across Tobey's heart. “Let's go.”

I flew to the door, and it opened. Darix was standing in the doorway, glowering down at us. My heart fell into my stomach, and I instinctively zipped backward. I hadn’t heard the slightest sound of his approach. He must have taken care to keep absolutely silent.

“What are you doing?” he asked in a dark voice.

Tobey pulled out his makeshift gun and angrily yelled, “Playing Pong!”

He fired, and a concussion grenade blew up in Darix's face, blasting him out into the corridor beyond.

Without giving myself time to think I zipped out into the hallway past Darix and to the left, swallowing my panic as I flew deeper into the belly of the beast.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

A loud explosion registered in Service Droid 91801's audio receptors from close by and a large object flew across the corridor and fell to the floor directly in front of it. It was too late to recalculate the path, so the robot simply stiffened its wheels and trundled right over the obstruction. A loud yell registered in the droid's audio receptors from even closer than the explosion, and it calculated that it had just run over a crew member. Oh, well. These Lexiconians were tougher than nails, anyway. Hopefully, it hadn't been someone hot-tempered or important.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

Darix must have covertly instructed all his goons to move quietly after he found out we had escaped, because even though I heard nothing in the corridor I turned into, there were half a dozen crew members right around the bend waiting for us.

Tobey pointed his grenade launcher, but it was snatched right out of his grip before he could pull the trigger and smashed in the hands of an irate Lexiconian.

I tried to double back, but another crewman came up behind me and seized me by my shoulders. At the same time, another one wrenched Tobey from my grasp.

“NO!” I screamed. Once again I was subdued within seconds by the men who seized me from all sides. My wild thrashing was spent in vain against their collective strength.

Shrieking in feral determination, Huggy pounced around like crazed beast and did his best to hinder them. It wasn't much.

“Let us go!” I screamed, heart shrinking in my chest. “Tobey!”

The crewman who had grabbed Tobey forced him to his knees on the ground. He pinned his hands behind his back with one arm while he locked the other around his neck. “Just give up,” he huffed, sounding frustrated and reluctant. “We don’t want to hurt you!”

“Speak for yourself!” snapped an angry woman who was having some trouble contending with a shrieking, thrashing Captain Huggyface.

I held my breath, resisting the compulsion to scream again. It was clear that brute force would not be enough to get us out of this. I had to use my wits—trick them somehow. As I was thinking this, my ears picked up a noise that seemed to be coming from… outside the station? It sounded like the distant roar of rockets, but not quite the same as what I’d been hearing all day from the ship’s engines. This was familiar in a much more nostalgic way, and my heart leaped with hope when I finally placed it in my memory. It was the sound of the rocket thrusters in the feet of Tobey’s robots. They were nearly here!

“Should I take him back to his cell?” asked the crewman holding onto Tobey, looking over at his female comrade, who had managed to immobilize Huggy in a harsh stranglehold.

“Oh, so he can escape again?” she snapped in retort. “Knock him out and we’ll see what Darix wants to do with him.”

I had to act fast. We just needed a few moments.

“Huggy,” I shouted in desperation, “Emergency plan—uh—ferrenglitch!”

The Lexiconians all paused and turned to look at me. “Ferrenglitch?” one of them asked.

I smiled and, taking a page from Tobey’s book, smugly said, “Don’t tell me you don’t know what ferrenglitch means. I thought you were Lexiconians.”

They didn’t seem to know how to respond to that, and they tensed as if embarrassed or expecting some mysterious contingency plan to sweep into effect.

“Pfft! Of course we know what it means!” said one of the men holding me down.

“What—does it mean?” asked the other sheepishly. His partner responded by elbowing him hard.

“Oh, well allow me to define it for you,” I said pleasantly, ignoring Tobey and Huggy’s incredulous grimaces. “A ferrenglitch is the act of distracting a bunch of Lexiconian thugs by making up a fake word.”

Before anyone could react, a sound like thunder and buckling metal roared through the air and the corridor shook violently. The Lexiconians flinched in surprise, looking around. The instant I felt their grip on me loosen I jerked free and zapped over to the one who had Tobey. I kicked him in the face at breakneck speed, and his scream rang in my ears as I snatched Tobey from his limp arms. Another tremor rattled the station. Huggy bit down hard on the arm of the woman holding him, and her scream filled the hallway as he hopped on my back, clasping his hands around my neck. I whizzed off while the stunned troop of thugs was still catching their bearings.

Eyes locked ahead, I jetted on at a screaming pace, prepared to dodge anyone else I might encounter. To my surprise, every Lexiconian I saw as I tore through the corridors ignored us completely. They all shouted in panic and buzzed about like insects, completely preoccupied as the station quaked and explosions sounded from all directions.

“Sounds like your robot colony is here,” I commented, downplaying my relief.

“I concur,” Tobey replied. He did his best to look up at me, smiling with a sparkle in his eyes that made me feel like everything would be okay, and said, “Your ‘ferrenglitch’ was brilliant, by the way.”

Huggy chirped his agreement, and I beamed. In spite of everything, I somehow even laughed. “Never thought I’d need to define a fake word, let alone one I made up myself.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” Tobey stated.

“Tell me about it.”

I gritted my teeth, looked steadfastly ahead, and tried to mentally prepare for my first time infiltrating the central control room of a Lexiconian space station currently under attack by giant robots.

 

« ... »

 

_We are pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed. We are perplexed, but not driven to despair. We are hunted down, but never abandoned by God. We get knocked down, but we are not destroyed._

— _2 Corinthians 4:8-9_

 

* * *

 

**Author's Notes:**

**-** _**All** _ _**’s Ferren Love and War—** _ **Think I can make** **‘ferrenglitch’ catch on? :P Becky’s improvised definition is pretty exclusively specific, but if anyone wants to use it in everyday life, I hereby assign it the secondary meaning of: ‘a word used in conversation with the hope that someone will ask what it means.’ ;)**

**-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“Air” by Built By Titan** _ **— I was so happy to find this song right when I was starting to think that the climax would be one long stretch of action that I couldn** **’t find good songs for. :) The lyrics describe Becky, Tobey, and even Huggy’s mutual determination at this critical moment to stick by each other, help each other, protect each other, and right now most of all to ‘keep running.’ I especially like how the ‘run out of air’ part fits right in with the oxygen problem I keep harping on.**


	23. Amain

_**Hey, readers! This chapter references the episode 'Robo Camping.'** _

 

**Foreword:**

**Foreword? What foreword? We** **’ve no time for a foreword! On with the action! XD**

 

* * *

 

Amain [ _uh_ - **meyn** ] – with full force.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

Things were about as I'd expected in the Control room when Becky got us inside. The crew was still bustling around frantically dealing with my robots, too busy to pay us any mind, but that couldn't last much longer. Through a huge window that gave an impressive view of the space outside, I could see a swarm of Lexiconians engaging my robots, and the battle was depressingly one-sided.

“Where did these things come from?” a female crew member shouted as her fingers flew across a control panel. The whole place shook once more.

“Just keep those stabilizers running!” yelled the man working the panel beside her. “There's only a few of them left!”

I wasn't surprised. Since Becky by herself could dispatch a dozen of them without breaking a sweat, I knew I couldn't expect them to provide more than a temporary distraction. The element of surprise was really all they had going for them, but it was enough to give me the few minutes I needed.

Ignoring the chaos all around, I turned my eyes to the center of the room, where a massive glowing orb pulsed softly in blue and orange hues, suspended in midair over a bowl-shaped machine. That could only be the power core. Just one problem, though. It was protected by another of those confounded force fields—one that emanated from way up on the highest point of the ceiling that arched over the massive room.

“Put me down,” I instructed.

Becky dropped to the ground and released her hold on me, though she seemed reluctant to do so. I pulled out two breaching charges and handed them to her.

“Push the buttons on both sides to activate them,” I explained, then pointed up to the top of the force field. “Fly up there and take out that shield.”

“What about you?” Becky asked.

“Don't worry about me,” I said urgently. “Just go!”

She gave a pensive nod and was gone in a flash. I, in turn, ran over to the base of the power core and pulled the doll-sized robot from my belt.

“Hey, who's that?” I heard someone shout in my direction. Apparently, the robot problem had been dealt with. Perfect timing.

I braced myself against the railing around the power core, and there was a loud explosion directly above me. The force field dissipated, and I lifted up my robot. However, a strong hand seized my wrist before I could throw it into the basin of the power core. I turned my head to see Darix standing right in front of me. There were tire marks across his livid face, and in spite of the situation, I almost laughed.

“You vexatious little—!” Darix fumed, looking like he was about to smash me like a bug.

I was blinded for a split-second by a bright flash, and then Becky appeared between Darix and me. She hoisted her feet up against Darix's chest and kicked hard, sending him reeling into the wall several meters behind him with a loud slam.

I heard a familiar bestial shriek, and Becky looked up just in time to catch Bob as he fell down to us. Apparently, he hadn't been holding onto her tight enough. He immediately shook off his daze and clambered onto Becky's back.

An irate growl called my attention back to Darix. He climbed out of the mold his body had made in the wall and coiled to attack us again. There was no time to lose.

I tossed my robot into the basin under the power core, slipped in front of Becky, then skipped my last charge across the floor toward Darix. He gasped and feinted to the side. The room convulsed from the explosion, and every Lexiconian present retreated to the walls.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Becky grabbed hold of me and zipped straight up. “Now what?”

I took in the panoramic view of the area as we ascended, and saw a platform situated near the ceiling at the focal point of the room. Perfect.

“Land there,” I said, pointing to the platform.

Becky unquestioningly obeyed, and when we set down on the platform and looked back into the Control Room, at least a dozen Lexiconians, including Darix, had us surrounded.

Becky stood resolutely in front of me. Hidden behind her back, I got out my computer and opened the command prompt of the program I already had running.

“Be careful not to injure her,” instructed a portly brown-haired Lexiconian wearing something similar to a lab coat. “She's a valuable resource.”

When I heard that, something snapped inside of me. A resource? He dared call Becky a _resource?!_ A rage the likes of which I'd never felt boiled over, and I pushed past Becky, taking my place between her and the gathered blackguards so I could face them head-on. Drilling into Darix’s eyes with a piercing glare, I threateningly held my computer up over my head for all to see.

My anger, pride, and desire to protect Becky all surged within me in unison, and I bellowed in the most vengeful voice that had ever escaped my throat, “Never—underestimate me—AGAIN!”

My fingers tingled with excitement, and a thrill that I hadn't felt in years rushed through me at the touch of a button.

 

« ... »

 

The lights flickered when Tobey pressed the button on his computer, and every Lexiconian present flinched, including me. Huggy screamed and pointed down at the ship's power core. There, a metallic form that could only be one of Tobey's robots was expanding rapidly, smashing up against the glowing sphere so that it began to crack and strobe.

“No! The core!” screamed one of Darix's thugs. He blasted over to it, but too late. The robot had already grown to the size of a small car, and the power core shattered against its domed head. The hum of energy throughout the station dulled to silence, and the pull of artificial gravity released completely. A few emergency lights flicked on—just enough for us to see the enemy ranks scattering in panic while the robot filled up the room, too quickly for them to prevent.

Then, I heard Tobey start to chuckle. While the whole station quaked from extreme stress, he progressed to a mischievous cackle. Metal bulkheads groaned and snapped balefully all around us. The foundations of the station were torn asunder. Starlight poured through giant ruptures in the walls. And as he gradually drifted higher, Tobey broke into a full-blown evil laugh.

A tremble ran down my spine. I hadn't heard him laugh like that in years, and never without his accent before. It probably would have been scary even if a space station _wasn't_ crumbling to pieces all around us.

“That’s right!” Tobey shouted, vigorously pumping a fist, “You’ll rue the day you messed with Theodore Tobey McCallister the Third!”

The sound of creaking metal in my ears reached critical mass, and I shook my stupor in an instant.

“Okay Tobey, that's enough,” I interrupted, grabbing him by the shoulders.

“Oh, but,” he moaned, wilting like a kid leaving a candy store. The transition was so abrupt I wanted to laugh. Instead, I carried my friends through a gaping fissure in the ceiling and out into space.

I jetted ahead, trying to put as much distance as possible between us and the enemy, but I hazarded a glance behind. I could see massive pieces of space station breaking loose and drifting away as the robot's body erupted from within, wearing what was left of the place like a deflating life preserver. It was fully conscious now and had begun flailing its limbs about, purposefully smashing corridors and crunching bulkheads left and right. The irony was enough to make me smile. Never had I thought I’d be so happy to see one of Tobey’s robots being as destructive as possible. Fixing my eyes ahead and ignoring the din of the chaos behind me, I shot further out into the surrounding space with Huggy on my back and Tobey in my arms.

“We need to get to the ship,” I said, looking nervously around, hoping our escape vehicle hadn't been destroyed along with the station. Thankfully, I spotted it drifting away from its docking port, looking relatively undamaged.

I pointed to it and announced, “There it is!”

I was about to fly over to it when a solid form forcefully blew past me, and Tobey was wrenched from my grasp. I heard him scream as he was carried away, and I caught a glimpse of Darix as he flashed ahead of me.

A familiar fearful dread seized my heart, but this time accompanied by righteous fury and fierce determination.

“TOBEY!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, blasting after him faster than I knew I could.

 

« ... »

 

_Now when these things begin to happen, look up and lift up your heads, because your redemption draws near._

— _Luke 21:28_

 

* * *

 

**Author's Notes:**

**-** _**Magic Growing Robot** _ _**—** _ **In case anyone** **’s scratching their head about how Tobey’s robot was able to suddenly Godzillify itself, I refer you to the episode ‘Robo Camping,’ which established that Tobey can make robots that have this ability. In fact, I suspect that he builds this feature into most if not all of his robots, which would explain why he’s sometimes able to pull 50 of them practically out of thin air.**


	24. Tutelary

**Foreword:**

**Fun fact about me: I don** **’t enjoy writing action. DX I’ve forced myself to write enough of it that I don’t completely suck at it anymore, but it’s still the most difficult and least fun part of the pen-to-paper phase of the writing process. Since this story was originally written with a really strict deadline (see my notes from chapter 3), I realized near the end that I wouldn’t be able to finish the whole story in time. :( So, I decided to just write around the action. I wrote right up to the climax, then skipped straight to the denouement, and finished the climax after I’d already presented the story to my brother as a Christmas present. It ended up working out pretty well, though, since he was able to help me plot the action out and add some neat touches of his own—like that little cargo bot that keeps popping up. XP So, even though the story is** _**far** _ **from over, you** **’re currently reading some of the last scenes I actually wrote down. Writing is funny that way. ;P**

 

* * *

 

Tutelary [ **toot** -l-er-ee] – having the position of guardian or protector of a person, place, or thing.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

Service Droid 91801 had just barely entered the cargo hold of its delivery point when its central processor was assaulted with unusual information. The space station was in great distress. The power core had been destroyed. The bulkheads in three quadrants were rupturing internally. An enormous foreign object had appeared in the Central Control room and was growing rapidly in size. What an interesting day this was turning out to be.

91801 blinked its optic, suddenly even _more_ grateful that it had been instructed to remain aboard this ship after delivering its cargo. Judging by the reports still flooding in, there soon wouldn’t be much of a space station to return to. The little droid stiffened its wheels as the ship began to tremble. The vessel was still docked at the space station, which seemed to be slowly exploding. Ignoring that as much as possible, Service Droid 91801 dutifully trundled to the designated drop-off point and stowed its cargo, taking extra precautions to secure it in place in light of the precarious circumstances.

As it wheeled toward the holding rack on the wall, preparing to go into standby mode, the ship convulsed violently. 91801 was thrown forcefully against the cargo bay’s back wall. Suddenly very concerned about its own safety, the robot began to assess its damage, as well as the danger level of the current situation. Turning to its right, it could see that the ship’s aft hatch, which had been attached to the space station 1.3 minutes ago, now opened out into space while the demolished space station withdrew into the distance. 91801 thereby concluded that the docking clamps had failed, and the force of whatever was tearing the station apart had thrust the ship outward.

Loud rumblings and scrapings issued from inside the cargo bay, and Service Droid 91801 saw that the unsecured cargo was also being flung toward the aft hatch. Internal alarms announced the extremely high danger level, disconcerting the poor bot within a microsecond of its warranty. It quickly searched its data banks and consulted an internal schematic of this ship’s model for something near this spot that it could tether to. It found a safety handle just above its head, seized it with all the power its small energy cells would allow, and desperately held on as dozens of cargo containers and less fortunate service droids were thrown out into space.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

I struggled uselessly, glaring at Darix despite the pain of his hateful grip. He stared right back at me, wrath radiating from his eyes.

“You should've stayed on your own planet, boy,” he seethed.

Suddenly I heard Becky's voice screaming, and she charged Darix with such force that he instantly released me and was carried away in a beam of light.

Suddenly, everything was spinning. I looked to my right, which quickly became my left, and I was struck with sharp dizziness. It was like being trapped in a broken gyroscope. Stars streaked like comets across my vision. I saw the ship, the station, the ship again, the station again, and the flashing, blasting twin lights of dueling Lexiconians.

“Becky,” I called out desperately, knowing there was no way I could get to her. I couldn’t even stop my body from pinwheeling through space, and I was so disoriented from the constant tumbling and flailing that I felt I might throw up in my helmet at any moment.

I heard a frightened yell and wrenched my head toward the sound. Mid-twirl I was just able to see a brief glimpse of Bob drifting toward me at high speed. He must've lost his grip on Becky during her mad dash to save me. He crashed into me, sending us both sailing, but the force of the collision also stopped me from spinning helplessly through space. With a gasp of grateful relief, I reached out and grabbed his foot before he could float away. The monkey squealed something that sounded like a thank-you and climbed onto my back, tightly grasping my shoulders.

I shook my head to clear the dizziness, then looked ahead, watching Becky and Darix flash angrily to and fro as they got farther and farther away. My heart sank with concern. I had faith in Becky, but she was a teenage girl out there, fighting an adult man with the same superpowers. There was no telling how long she could last against him. I had to help her somehow.

I glanced over at Darix's ship. It continued to drift from the destroyed space station, but it still wasn't too far away. With one good burst of thrust, I could probably get to it.

Heart racing with concern and determination, I pulled my computer from my belt and reactivated its interface with my suit's oxygen system.

 

« ... »

 

“NO!” I screamed as I furiously propelled Darix away from Tobey. “You leave him ALONE!”

Darix's surprise wore off quickly, and he grabbed my shoulders and flung me aside. I was dismayed by the staggering difference in our strength, but I couldn't let that discourage me. I had to protect Tobey.

“I can't believe what a _fool_ you are,” Darix vociferated, charging me with such velocity that I barely had time to brace myself before he knocked me aside with a powerful backhand. I grunted in pain as I crashed into a large piece of debris from the space station. “Charging into a fight you can’t possibly win just to protect that human?” He attacked again, and this time I dodged. My ears hurt from the screeching of metal as Darix smashed the debris behind me.

I jetted a distance away from him, then faced him once more, taking up a defensive posture. He turned around to glare at me and hatefully spat, “I don’t understand you! What’s the point of caring about him if you can’t even _save_ him?”

Anger flared inside me, burning away the last vestige of fear. My fists tightened at my sides, and I saw Darix with new eyes yet again. No longer was he the kind man who had begged for my help on Earth, nor was he the terrifying miscreant who had threatened to kill my friend. Now the man before me was nothing more than a pathetic wretch with no heart, and therefore no future. I would never lose to someone as contemptible as him.

“I don’t understand _you_!” I zapped toward him, ready for his counterstrike, and when he coiled to knock me aside, I parried and grabbed his arm, spinning around and flinging him as hard as I could into a different piece of space debris. Remembering the reason he’d given for why he’d done all this—his alleged mission to protect our people from the future threat of the Zymians—I inhaled and passionately shouted, “What’s the point of saving anyone if you don’t even _care_ about them?!”

I grabbed a drifting section of corridor and hurled it at him as hard as I could. Darix looked up, still dazed from slamming into the first giant piece of scrap metal, and gasped as he jumped out of the path of this one. The wreckage collided with a loud _boom_ , sending shrapnel flying in all directions.

Darix frowned sharply and charged me. I waited until the last possible moment, then zipped away into a sharp curve and kicked him from the side. He pinwheeled off into space, stunned and disoriented, and with a swell of excitement, I recognized my advantage over him. Darix was a manipulator, not a fighter. I wasn't nearly as strong as him, but I had something important that he was seriously lacking: experience.

 

« ... »

 

Bob shrieked worriedly when he saw what I was doing.

“We don't have a choice,” I explained, guessing what he was concerned about. “We have to get to the ship.”

I finished configuring my suit's system. Now it could dispense oxygen in bursts from the intake valve on my back. Darix had said there was a single day's supply in the tank. Hopefully, it would be enough.

“Hang on tight,” I said, and Bob obeyed, squealing apprehensively.

I flailed around just enough to get us facing the ship, then took a deep breath. It was true that I didn’t have a choice, but I was still taking a big risk. I wouldn’t do Becky any good if I suffocated in my suit two minutes after she risked her life to save me. I _definitely_ wasn’t doing her any good just drifting in space, though. And then there was the more obvious, and more selfish cause of my hesitation—I didn’t want to die.

With a trembling finger, I pushed the button to execute the command. The sputtering of air leaving my suit sounded behind me, and I was launched forward. The momentum from the first burst looked like it would be enough to get us to the ship, but, unfortunately, I had to initiate another to correct our course.

“Look for something we can hold onto,” I shouted as the ship rapidly got closer. If we couldn't find an anchor for ourselves, we would bounce right off the hull, and I would have wasted my oxygen for nothing.

Bob squealed urgently when the ship was mere meters away and pointed to a gnarled piece of the ship's stern not too far to our right. Reluctantly, I let off one last small oxygen burst to get us lined up with our handhold, and prayed the mangled metal wouldn't cut open my suit when we struck it.

I almost gasped in surprise when Bob climbed in front of me. With ape-like dexterity, he grabbed one of my arms with his feet and reached out with both hands toward the ship. Once the damaged section of the hull was within his reach he seized it carefully and pushed back against me, so that I stopped short of touching it.

“Wow,” I said, exhaling in relief. “Thanks.”

Bob smiled back at me and chirped happily as if to say, 'No problem,' then sobered and gave a nervous squawk as he pointed at his head.

I looked at my computer and checked on my oxygen reserve. Thirty minutes left.

“Don't worry,” I said, trying to ignore the little pit opening up in my stomach. “I have plenty of time.”

 

« ... »

 

_Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres._

— _1 Corinthans 13:6-7_

 

* * *

 

**Author's Notes:**

**-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“Fight Song” by Rachel Platten** _ **— I thought of Becky the first time I heard this song, and to this day I can** **’t hear it without thinking of her resolve in this final battle. She’s put aside all her fear, doubt, and, sorrow, and she’s decided that she’s just going to fight until she beats this thing.**

**-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“Your Guardian Angel” by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus** _ **— This song has been applied to so many couples, but Tobey is** _**earning** _ **his right to claim it. It** **’s easy to** _**say** _ **that you** **’d die for someone, but to actually put your lifeline where your mouth is and stare death in the eyes to get between it and your loved one... That takes more than just words.**


	25. Indomitable

**Foreword:**

 

 ***grumble, grumble* Sorry, guys** **… All I can think to say right now is how disappointed I am in Season 2 of Minecraft: Story Mode. -_- Not like I was expecting it to be good, but… wow. Season 1 must be rolling in its grave. DX In a few hours I’ll be going to see Guardians of the Galaxy 2 to take the edge off. For now, I’m excited to hear what you guys think of this chapter. :}**

 

* * *

 

Indomitable [in- **dom** -i-t _uh_ -b _uh_ l] – Incapable of being subdued or overcome; unconquerable.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

  

Darix came at me again, seething in anger. I dodged another punch, then kicked him in the stomach. He groaned in pain, but caught my hand when I tried to hit him again and knocked me aside. I winced and dove as he came at me for another strike, then charged right back up with my fist extended, and clobbered his face as I whizzed past him.

“I'm disappointed in you, Darix,” I taunted, hovering a comfortable distance away from him. “I never thought I'd hear another Lexiconian incorrectly define a word.”

“What are you talking about?” he seethed, actually pausing to hear what I would say.

I smiled and explained, “You said that love is a fickle, deceitful emotion.” I zapped over to him faster than he could react, and added through a passionate scream, “You were _wrong!_ ”

I plowed right into Darix and slammed him into the side of a drifting ship so hard that his body made a huge dent in the metal. Within the same beat that he struck back I raised up my legs, planted my feet on his shoulders, and kicked hard, launching him downward.

Chasing after him as he flew, I shouted vehemently on, “Love is when you value someone else more than yourself! When you would do anything to save them, sacrifice anything to protect them… Love _isn't_ an emotion! It's an _action!_ ”

 

« ... »

 

Groping carefully along the hull, Bob and I made our way to the ship's stern. The vessel had been docked when the space station was destroyed, so the hatch leading into the cargo bay was open. Upon reaching the threshold I grabbed onto its thick metal lip and thrust myself inside while Bob rode on my back.

The cargo bay was dark, meaning that there probably wasn't anyone aboard. The artificial gravity was still on, though, and once I was safely inside the ship's walls, I plopped on the ground with a painful grunt. It was a good thing I'd come in from a spot already close to the floor.

I grunted as I opened my eyes, and the first thing I saw was my service droid—the one I’d programmed to bring my things to my cell—twitching and beeping on the floor just a few paces away. The thing looked as if he’d had a rough time of it lately, but he was in one piece, and he had actually made it to the ship. I smiled in relief. Seeing him was like finding an oasis in the desert.

Bob jumped off me and pulled me to my feet. Once I was up, we both ran through the cargo bay and down the corridor that went directly to the bridge. The doors were locked, but it only took me a minute or two to disable the security protocol from my computer. Once the doors opened, Bob and I burst into the abandoned room, dimly lit only by the starlight and flashes of battle from outside.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Becky was still holding her own against Darix. We had to hurry, though, if we were going to help her before it was too late.

Bob knew it better than I did, or so it seemed from the way he started zipping across the control panels and command terminals with a trail of buttons and dials blinking to life behind him. Seconds later the cabin lights came on, and the familiar hum of the ship's engines returned.

“I take it you can pilot this ship,” I said, smiling with satisfaction.

Bob gave me a thumbs-up, chittering something that I took to mean, ‘They don’t call me _Captain_ Huggyface for nothing!’ He jumped into a chair and pointed at the chair beside him. I obediently sat down and swallowed as I looked at the vast array of controls before me, all labeled in Lexiconian. Immediately I set to work interfacing the console's display with the translation program on my pocket computer. I smiled victoriously when the lights all across the control panel blinked in unison and came back on with the labels refreshed in English. I studied the layout of the various buttons and switches, wondering what I could actually do with them that might help.

Bob screamed and pointed through to window, where the strobe of fighting had ceased and I could see that Darix had Becky immobilized in a headlock.

“Oh, no,” I said, tensing with worry. “We have to do something!”

Bob urgently rattled off a long string of chimp-speak that sounded like instructions, and I made a fist in frustration.

“Darn it, Bob,” I shouted angrily. “I told you, I don't speak space-monkey!”

Bob's expression grew serious as he turned to his panel, and his fingers blazed across the controls until he pushed one final button that made an audible announcement in an alien language. He looked back at me, and a loud warble called my attention back to my own station. I almost gasped in surprise when I saw a string of text appear in an empty space on my console.

YOU'RE AT THE TACTICAL STATION. WHAT WEAPONS DO WE HAVE?

My heart swelled with excitement, and a grin crept up both sides of my face.

“All right!” I exclaimed, “Now we're _talking_!”

I accessed the weapons manifest and selected an adjustable-strength laser cannon, which I set to a narrow beam and aimed directly at Darix. As long as he had Becky in his clutches, though, I couldn't fire at him without the risk of hitting her as well. I grit my teeth, dripping sweat inside my helmet as I watched them. The sight of my angel bound up in the hateful arms of a devil like Darix made me sick to my stomach, but I kept my eyes fixed on them, waiting for her to shake him loose.

“Come on, Becky,” I whispered, tensing with worry. “You can do it. Get away from him.”

 

« ... »

 

I writhed in Darix's grasp, unable to shake him loose. I had been doing so well, but one false move was all it took for him to get a hold on me, and then it was all over.

He flipped me around facing away from him, and his arm locked in place around my neck. He reached his other arm around my waist and pinned both my hands as he crushed my body against his. I kicked frantically, but my legs were useless.

“You, my dear, are proving to be far more trouble than you're worth,” he whispered gruffly into my ear. “Nonetheless, I _will_ have your hearing ability. That boy you so foolishly cherish is still drifting around somewhere, and when I find him you will see how impotent love is compared to rage.”

 

« ... »

 

I stopped breathing when Becky's thrashing subsided and Darix tightened his hold on her. Bob shrieked fearfully, and I swallowed blood, only now realizing that I'd been biting my lip.

“No…” I murmured. Taking in a sharp breath, I slammed my hands on the panel in front of me and shouted at the screen, “No! Don't give up, Becky! _Move!_ ”

 

« ... »

 

_Tobey?_

I would have gasped if I hadn’t been choking. Did I just hear Tobey’s voice? _No,_ he had said. Was it my imagination?

Darix tightened his hold on me even more, until I winced from the pressure of his overwhelming grip. I couldn’t breathe, and I would faint soon if I couldn’t free myself. That was undoubtedly what he wanted. I didn’t need to fear that he might kill me, but if he incapacitated me, he might kill Tobey, and that was an even worse thought. There was nothing I could do, though. My brain was going foggy, my strength was failing me, and my will to fight was slowly ebbing away.

As I stopped resisting, tears gathered in my eyes. _Tobey_ _… Huggy… I’m sorry._

“Don’t give up, Becky!”

I started, lucidity returning with a jolt. This time there was no doubt. That had been Tobey. I had definitely heard his voice. And again he passionately shouted, “ _Move!_ ”

My heart seized in my chest, and my determination returned with a vengeance. A wave of adrenaline surged through me, and my muscles burned with a surge of new strength.

In a single, desperate effort, I yanked my arms backward. My wrists jerked free from Darix's hand, and I jabbed him hard in the stomach with both elbows. He winced and his chokehold on me loosened. Immediately I wrenched myself from his arms and rocketed off. When I was far enough away I stopped and turned once more to face him, trembling and gasping for breath.

My vision was swimming, and I was afraid I’d still be seeing double when Darix attacked me again. We both shied back in surprise when a beam of blazing red light seared through space right in front of him. When the energy dispersed and I saw him again, his eyes seemed to have doubled in size, and the front of his suit sported several smoking black marks.

The both of us turned in unison to see where the blast had come from, and lo and behold, the very ship that had brought me here was drifting toward us. Another laser fired at Darix from the tip of the vessel’s nose, though less bright and concentrated than the first. This one he dodged as well, but barely.

He bared his teeth, seething as he scowled in the direction of the ship, and when the third laser blast nearly vaporized him, he trailed away in a streak of light.

I smiled, breathing deeply in profound relief.

“That's my Tobey,” I murmured to myself, soaring to the ship while my pounding heart rejoiced.

 

« ... »

 

_Love never fails._

— _1 Corinthians 13:8a_

 

* * *

 

**Author's Notes:**

**-** _**The Meaning of Love** _ _**—** _ **You may notice that Becky didn** **’t use the dictionary definition of love when she defined it for Darix. This is because love is one of those strange, transcendent words that no one really trusts the dictionary to define. There are so many different things people mean when we use the word ‘love,’ and so often we ourselves don’t even know what we mean when we say it. So, presumptuous as it may seem, the definition I used is not according to Webster, but according to me. I believe that love is far too big a thing to fit in any mere emotion, and that** _**real** _ **love is much more about what you** _**do** _ **than what you** _**feel** _ **. The Bible taught me that. :) Honestly, by this point no one should be surprised that my personal definition of love could pretty much be summed up with the words** **‘Jesus Christ.’**


	26. Corybantic

_**Hey, readers! This chapter references the episode 'Princess Triana and the Ogre of Castlebum.'** _

 

**Foreword:**

**Back when I was polishing these chapters, it hit me that I really should have given Darix** **’s ship a** _**name** _ **. O.O Sure, it didn** **’t matter a whole lot back in the beginning, but when you’re writing a big action scene involving a ship, it really helps to be able to call the ship something other than ‘the ship’ over and over again. :{ Unfortunately, it’s a little late in the game to fix this, but I wanted the record to show that if I’d thought of it sooner, I’d have given the ship a really cool, significant name. The L.S.F.** _**Volitant** _ **or something. *sigh** **…***

 

* * *

 

Corybantic [kawr- _uh_ - **ban** -tik] – frenzied; agitated; unrestrained.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

She's okay! She made it inside,” I announced to Bob, grinning from ear to ear as the monkey cheered.

I flipped the switch to close the aft hatch, hoping it wasn’t too damaged to seal, and spun around in my seat just in time to see her flash into the room. “Becky!”

Bob squealed in excitement and leaped into her arms. I felt a little jealous as I watched them hug, but shook my head and banished the senseless emotion. She'd hugged me when she freed me from my cell, hadn't she?

“You two are incredible,” Becky complimented, still holding her monkey like a teddy bear. “How did you get to the ship?”

I gave her a halfhearted smile. “Well, I—”

The ship quaked violently, and I nearly tumbled from my seat.

“What was that?” Becky asked, her smile gone.

Bob jumped back to his station while I checked my radar. “It's one of the other ships that was docked at the station. It's firing at us!”

Another tremor shook us, and this time I braced myself.

“Can you get us out of here?” Becky asked.

Instead of answering, Bob gripped his control stick and yanked it back. The ship rose sharply, and the attacking ship appeared on the screen at last. It was much larger than ours, and I could see the glow of its laser charging.

“Huggy!” Becky screamed.

The ship banked left, and when the enemy laser fired it grazed our hull, causing the ship to shudder. Bob deftly maneuvered the control stick with one hand while he typed with the other, and a message appeared on my screen.

CAN YOU COUNTERATTACK?

“No,” I said, eyes flitting between my panel and the ship on the screen. “The laser cannon is overheated, and the torpedo bays are empty.”

“You can't reload them?” Becky asked worriedly.

“I think they're normally reloaded by the service droids, but it looks like most of ours drifted off into space when the ship detached from the station.”

Bob yelled and flung the ship into a nose-dive. On the radar screen, I saw a primed torpedo sail across our stern. With a gasp, I quickly engaged the rear deflector, and the ship rocked when the torpedo exploded a short distance away from us.

“The hull is losing structural integrity,” I announced. “I'll see if I can… Becky?”

When I turned to look at the pilot, I saw Becky in my peripheral, heading out the door.

“Turn on the intercoms throughout the ship,” she instructed, offering no further explanation before she took off down the central corridor.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

The hatch door closed, and Service Droid 91801 had scarcely a chance to slow down the frantic humming of its processor before the ship quaked once more. The poor little robot, having interfaced with the ship’s computer upon boarding, received an automatic notification that another ship had opened fire and was dealing copious damage. Normally there would be nothing for a service droid to do in such a situation but buckle into a holding rack and wait for the battle to end. However, 91801 received a second automatic notification informing it that the home ship’s torpedo bays were in need of reloading.

Had the droid been capable of sighing in dismay, it would have. Instead, it stiffened its joints and began its precarious trip to the ammunition stores while the ship continued to rattle from the external barrage.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

I was inside the library within seconds of leaving the bridge. Ignoring the clamor of another attack, I flew straight up to a wall terminal. First I brought up a blueprint of the ship, noting the route to the torpedo bays, and then I searched the cargo manifest for the storage code I would need to locate ammunition. Lastly, I pulled up the operations manual for the torpedo launchers themselves. My eyes blazed across the screen, and I read the thirty-page document within a few seconds.

“Becky, what are you doing?” Tobey's voice finally shouted over the intercom. I must have been moving faster than I'd realized.

“Get your targeting scanner locked onto the other ship, Tobey,” I said, abandoning the console. “You're about to have torpedoes.”

I flashed into the cargo hold and immediately spotted my target. To my surprise, I also spotted one of the service droids Tobey had mentioned, loading one of the cylindrical warheads onto its back. Huh… Apparently they _hadn_ _’t_ all been jettisoned into space. This one actually looked just like the one that had helped rescue Tobey from his cell back on the station—though I supposed they all probably looked alike.

Well, I’d take any help I could get, but I couldn’t afford to wait for this little guy to do his job at his normal speed. He probably knew how to load the ammo better than I did, though, so I made a slight adjustment to my plan. Instead of grabbing a torpedo as I’d come here to, I swooped down and swept the little robot right off his wheels. He beeped as though surprised but thankfully didn’t resist me as I whisked him off to the torpedo bay and set him down on the floor.

“There. Go ahead and load that torpedo,” I said, hoping the service droid would understand, or at least just continue his job despite my sudden interference.

He turned to look at me—or appeared to, at least. It was hard to tell since he didn’t have a ‘face’ in the traditional sense. After closing and reopening a shutter on what I could only surmise was his one big eye, he turned to the empty torpedo cylinders and began loading the projectile he’d brought with him into one of them.

I smiled, and a fresh jolt of the ship cut my relief short. I flashed back to the cargo bay, grabbed two more torpedoes, and super-speedily delivered them to a busy little service droid who seemed surprised to see them. From the looks of him, he’d been ready to go fetch another himself, and there were two of them sitting on the floor waiting to be loaded. The robot blinked its shutter again, then mechanically began loading the next torpedo.

I gave a little chuckle in spite of myself, grateful that the little guy had survived.

 

« ... »

 

“Okay! You should be able to use the torpedo banks now,” Becky's voice announced through the intercom.

Sure enough, that pesky 'reload' error screen had disappeared. “Great work, Becky! Now get out of that room!”

Bob grit his teeth as he rode his control stick, and looked grave when he typed up his next brief message.

I CAN'T OUTFLY THEM.

“Evade them, then. Come about hard, and I'll see if I can take out a few of their critical systems with these torpedoes.”

The enemy ship came into view as Bob banked to the right, and I locked onto their laser cannon and fired. A torpedo sailed toward them and impacted on the surface of the ship, absorbed by their shields. There were a couple of words I really would have liked to say right then, but I didn't think Becky would approve.

FIRE ON THEIR SHIELD GENERATOR. IT’S ABOVE THE EXHAUST VENTS.

This time I fired _twice_ on the spot Bob mentioned, hoping I’d aimed right. One torpedo was detonated harmlessly by a blast from the opposing laser cannon, but the other found its mark.

“Yes! Their shields are down. Becky, can you get me more torpedoes?”

“Already on it,” she announced through the intercom.

Meanwhile, the laser cannon had cooled down enough that I could use it again, and a message from Bob appeared on my screen.

I'M FLYING UNDER THEM. TAKE OUT THEIR ENGINES.

“Good idea,” I said, switching my targeting scanner to the laser cannon. Their offensive capabilities wouldn't matter if they couldn't chase us. I configured the cannon to fire a continuous beam. It would overheat very quickly this way, but it was almost out of power anyway. This was my last chance with it.

Swallowing, I watched the ship's underbelly creep up over us as Bob maneuvered, and when the engines came into view, I fired the laser cannon. It was a direct hit, and a small eruption blew out the hole I'd made in the ship's hull.

“Ha! Take that!”

Bob squawked, sounding less celebratory than I'd expected, and I checked my screen.

THE ENGINE ROOM WAS DESTROYED, BUT THEY'RE STILL MOVING. THEY MUST HAVE A SECONDARY PROPULSION SYSTEM.

“Oh, _brilliant_ ,” I huffed, bracing myself as our ship rattled from another blast to our hull.

Just then Becky zipped into the room, wearing a grave expression. “I've just loaded the last two torpedoes. I guess most of them drifted off along with the cargo bots.”

Even _more_ good news.

“Come up around, Bob,” I ordered. “I'll try for their weapons again. If that doesn't work, just bolt and pray that we can outrun them now that their main engines are down.”

Bob nodded and eased his control stick toward him. The enemy ship disappeared from view for a moment as we pulled up behind them, then came back on screen from the right as Bob leveled us out.

I took a few deep breaths to steady myself as the daunting enemy vessel drew closer, its laser cannon charging to fire.

“Tobey…” Becky murmured, hovering close behind me.

Splitting the screen of my targeting scanner, I fixed one interface on the other ship's torpedo bay, the other on its laser cannon, and fired.

Our final two torpedoes cut through space in different directions. The first hit the charging laser cannon, which sizzled and died out before it could shoot. The second torpedo found its mark as well, but not before a round made it out of the other ship's torpedo bay. Before Bob could react, we were hit, and the ship shook more violently than ever before.

Bob shrieked.

OUR ENGINES ARE DOWN.

I checked my status screen to confirm and hit it with my fist. A warning light blinked near the top of my console.

“They're hailing us,” I announced.

 

« ... »

 

_For now you are nothing, you see terror and are afraid._

— _Job 6:21_

 

* * *

 

**Author's Notes:**

**-** _**Speed Reading** _ _**—** _ **At the end of the episode** **‘Princess Triana and the Ogre of Castlebum’ Becky breezes through a novel like a flip book and finishes it within a few seconds. I’ve taken this to be another standard Lexiconian superpower, and I jumped at the opportunity to put it to practical use. :)**


	27. Equanimity

**Foreword:**

**I had so much fun writing this chapter. XD I hope it will soon be obvious why. :P**

 

* * *

 

Equanimity [ee-kw _uh_ - **nim** -i-tee] – mental or emotional stability or composure, especially under tension or strain; calmness; equilibrium.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

My stomach soured when Darix's face appeared on the screen, and I found myself gravitating closer to Tobey.

“Surrender… _immediately_ ,” Darix commanded, his face serious as the grave.

“Don't you ever give up, Darix?” I snapped, willing courage into my voice. “Why can't you just let us go?”

“So that the destruction of my entire space station can be for _nothing_?” he retorted, as though our escape had been a personal attack. “I don't think so, girl. Now I'll tell you once more. Surrender.”

I swallowed, trying desperately to hold onto the righteous fury that had strengthened me against Darix just minutes ago. It was hard, though, when things looked so hopeless. There had to be _something_ more I could do to protect Huggy and Tobey. I couldn't just give up now.

“Very well, I give up,” Tobey said suddenly.

“What?” I gasped, and Bob shrieked likewise.

“Well I tried, but you fellows are just too smart for me,” Tobey went on, and only now did I notice the subtle sarcasm and less subtle British accent in his voice. “Good show, Ambassador. I must say, I don't know why I ever thought I'd stand a chance against you, but I did my best, and I suppose that's all that matters. If you would, please bear with me for a moment. I am but a lowly human and this technology is _so_ advanced… Would you be so kind as to direct me to the 'surrender' button?”

I had to put a hand over my mouth to contain a laugh. Tobey had always been a cocky thing, but when had he become so witty? His lambency in the face of such dreadful peril was both amazing and encouraging. Reason regained its hold, however, and I found the sense to wonder what he was thinking, provoking Darix when we were sitting ducks at his non-existent mercy. When I looked at Tobey seeking an answer, I saw that he was subtly doing something with his computer and control panel as he bantered.

“Oh, you think you're so clever, don't you?” Darix spat.

“Clever is such an obvious word,” Tobey countered, further exaggerating his tone as he babbled on. “How about 'brilliant,' or 'erudite,' or 'astute,' or—?”

“Silence, you—!”

“Hold on, I'm not finished. You could also say 'formidable,' 'cunning,' 'inventive,' 'sagacious…' Or ooh! How about 'dashingly handsome'?”

“How about 'doltishly asinine'?”

“No, actually that would be an _antonym_ for 'clever,' which, in case you didn't know, is a word that has the _opposite_ meaning.” Tobey turned to me and patronizingly asked, “Honestly, what kind of Lexiconian doesn't even know what an antonym is?”

On the screen, I saw one of the crewmen standing behind Darix snicker, and Darix whirled around and punched him in the face. He flew out of view and I heard a loud crash half a second later. I wasn't sure whether Tobey was purposely trying to incite Darix or just stall for time, but either way, he was succeeding.

“Listen, you little urchin, I don't have time for this malarkey!”

“Oh, I quite agree,” said Tobey, and his bantering tone suddenly grew serious. “So I'll make this brief. Anyone aboard your vessel who doesn't want to be reduced to space dust had best abandon ship… _immediately_.”

With that, he stuck his tongue out at Darix, and ostentatiously pressed a button on his panel. Darix and his crewmen remained on screen, but in unison they all started moving about the cabin and broke into nervous chatter amongst themselves.

“What did he mean by that?” asked one.

“You think he has something up his sleeve?” wondered another.

I blinked in confusion and looked down at Tobey, who was still working on his panel while his computer blinked in his lap. “Um… what happened?”

Without looking up at me, Tobey replied in a genuine but still cocky voice, “I masked the comm link from their end. They don't know our computers are still talking.”

Flabbergasted in amazement, I looked at Huggy, who scratched his head and chirped quizzically.

“So… we can see them, but they can't see us?” I surmised.

“Precisely,” Tobey chuckled, and added almost tauntingly, “but that's just the icing.”

Though I was a little unnerved by Tobey's mysterious posturing, and even more by his reluctance to explain it, my heart lifted with hope. He was so confident, I couldn't help but feel reassured that he really did have things under control. Little by little, it was getting easier to trust him.

“Well, then,” I muttered awkwardly, “what should Huggy and I do?”

Tobey grinned and nodded at the screen. “Just sit back and enjoy the show.”

“Calm down, you cowards!” Darix shouted at his company. “Their engines are dead and their weapons are down. What could he possibly do?”

“That's what we thought when we threw him in a cell with an oxygen leash,” one of the goons pointed out, “and then he destroyed our space station!”

Unrest stirred among the Lexiconians yet again, and I had to admit, it _was_ strangely entertaining to watch Darix grasping at straws to quiet his ranks.

“You craven fools! You're telling me you're actually _afraid_ of that _child_?! We could destroy him with a single torpedo!”

“That was our last torpedo, sir,” said a woman at the tactical station. “The rest drifted off into space!”

“He doesn't know that,” Darix blasted, and I snorted a laugh. “He's bluffing, I tell you! He has _nothing_ on us!”

Tobey bent double over his console, all atremble with his eyes shut. He hit the same button he'd pressed to 'cut' the signal earlier and let loose an uproarious fit of laughter.

On the screen, Darix paled and turned to face us.

“I have a solution for you Darix,” Tobey managed, laughing so hard that he didn't bother with his accent. “You don't need Becky's super-hearing. Just spy on people who are as stupid as _you_.”

“Why you little—!” Darix blasted, his pale face turning fiery red. “When I get my hands on you, I'll wring your scrawny neck with my bare—!”

Tobey cut him off in a stern tone, going British now that his laughter was under control. “You're still underestimating me. I warned you not to do that.”

He pressed a few buttons, flipped a switch, and the voice of the other ship's onboard computer coldly announced, “Self-destruct sequence initiated. Warning: this vessel will self-destruct in two minutes.”

My mouth fell open, but I was speechless.

The unease among Darix's men instantly transformed into hysteria. Darix’s pilot stood and saluted as he grimly announced, “Sir, three crew members have just left the ship, and I'm making it four.”

He zapped off, leaving a bewildered Darix fuming and screaming. After that, shouts and flashes of light created a mess of chaos on screen, until Darix stood alone on the bridge of his ship, dumbfounded and abandoned. I almost felt sorry for the guy… _Almost_.

“A bit of advice,” Tobey drawled. “When you're going up against a technological prodigy, don't open a channel between his computer and yours. Now, if there won't be anything else, we'd be happy to accept _your_ surrender and be on our way.”

I smiled, resisting the urge to laugh aloud and drag Tobey out of his seat for a well-deserved hug. I didn't want to ruin his moment, especially since it was such an awesome one.

Another announcement from the larger ship's computer stated, “One minute until self-destruct.”

Darix's face glowed with rage. “I don't think so, human!”

He flashed to his ship's vacant conn, and his hands blazed across the panel. Tobey's smug grin wilted, and he asked in a neutral voice, “What are you doing?”

“A prodigy like you should be able to do a simple calculation like this,” Darix derided. “Your engines are out of commission, and a minute is more than enough for me to get out in time.”

Even as he said this, we could see his ship through the dome window begin to slowly move toward us.

Huggy shrieked fearfully, and I translated in horror, “He set his ship on a collision course. He's going to crash it into us!”

Tobey swallowed, and for the first time since this whole mess started, he looked afraid. “Don't do this, Darix,” he pleaded solemnly.

“Why shouldn’t I?!” Darix bellowed. His eyes were wide and bloodshot, and his knuckles paled in their furious grip on his ship's control stick. “Why should _you_ get to live and go free when Kyto had to die? Where’s the justice in that?!”

Darix's computer announced the forty-five-second mark and began counting down second by second. Huggy moaned and shrank helplessly in his seat while I clutched Tobey's shoulder, watching my life flash before my eyes.

“Tobey…” I murmured. My throat closed up, and I could say no more.

Tobey bit his lip and breathed a reluctant sigh. He reached for his computer and punched a few buttons, then looked up at the screen in calm resignation.

Darix's maniacal smile grew more demonic-looking with each number his computer announced as its countdown droned on. “Thirty seconds. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight. Twenty-seven. Two. One.”

Darix gasped. His face turned ashen in shock. He looked up at us for a split second, and then his image dissolved into static, and through the thick glass of the cockpit's dome window, I watched his ship explode spectacularly less than a mile away.

 

« ... »

 

_You will reduce the noise of aliens, As heat in a dry place; As heat in the shadow of a cloud, The song of the terrible ones will be diminished._

— _Isaiah 25:5_

 

* * *

 

**Author's Notes:**

**-** _**“Well I tried, but you fellows are just too smart for me.”—** _ **If you** **’ve seen Disney’s** _**George of the Jungle** _ **(1997)** _**,** _ **you may recognize this line. It** **’s not really worth explaining if you** _**haven** _ _**’t** _ **seen the movie, but I wanted to note where it** **’s from all the same. I just couldn’t resist throwing it in! It was such a fun little parallel. XP**

 **-** _**Why can** _ _**’t the Lexiconians just attack the ship using their superpowers?—** _ **My brother asked me this question while I was reading this scene to him, and at first, I feared he** **’d discovered another problematic plot hole. However, upon further consideration, I realized that there’s a very believable explanation. I’ve already established that Lexiconians have materials and technologies that are resistant to superpowers, and it makes sense that they would build their ships with such, especially considering how many races in the WordGirl universe have such powers. I never had occasion to go into it, but I imagine the Zymians have comparable powers themselves, so it only stands to reason that the Lexiconians would build their ships so that they aren’t vulnerable to an onslaught of ‘superpowers’ which are quite normal in their culture.**

 **-** _**Dispatching the Villain** _ _**—** _ **How to deal with my antagonists at the end of stories seems to be a regularly occurring dilemma for me, and this story was no exception. I** **’ve already talked about how I need to love my villains, and so there’s almost always a desire on my part to reform them rather than simply punish them. Sadly, more often than not, reform doesn’t end up being a realistic option, and so I have to decide on the best way to serve justice in the end. I realized quickly that Darix needed to die in the end. Otherwise, Becky would never know if she was safe from him. I really didn’t want to have my teenage heroes kill him outright, though—not because I think it would be morally wrong for them to kill in self-defense, but because it would just be** _**way** _ **too dark for the story. However, I** _**also** _ **didn** **’t want to contrive some lame cop-out ending like those I’ve seen in so many stories. You know the ones I’m talking about, right? The hero shows mercy because he’s such a ‘good person’ and then the villain conveniently** _***coughs*** _ **I mean** _**accidentally** _ **kills or maims himself so that the world can be saved without the hero having to get his hands dirty, and the moral of the story is that killing is always wrong and evil people will magically self-destruct for those who refuse to take decisive action against them. *rolls eyes and grumbles for another 5 minutes*** _**Anyway** _ _**…** _ **I was starting to wonder if a satisfying middle ground between justice and mercy even existed when I finally thought of the idea I actually used. Tobey finally gets the upper-hand against Darix but refrains from killing him, and then Darix puts him in a position where he is** _**forced** _ **to either kill him or let him kill Becky. I think this kind of scenario is the only one in which I could have brought myself to have Tobey actually kill someone. This way his intentions are obviously good, his motives are unquestionably pure, and he doesn** **’t have to wonder for the rest of his life if what he did to Darix was a horrific relapse into villainy. As it stands, his first (and hopefully** _**only** _ **) time ever killing someone can be remembered by all as an act of heroism, not murder.**


	28. Laconic

**Foreword:**

**Wow** **… The story is almost over. o_0**

 

* * *

 

Laconic [l _uh_ - **kon** -ik] – expressing much in few words.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

Our ship shuddered almost soothingly as the shockwave from Darix's ship swept past us. Then, there was silence. Deep, heavy silence. My racing pulse finally slowed in the repose of it.

The emotions surfacing within me were like… voices and images slowly coming into focus after waking up. Good ones, bad ones, and ones I couldn't even recognize just yet. I was overwhelmed, and yet somehow completely calm. I knew one thing for sure: it was over. We had made it.

Outside the transparent dome, the fragmented remains of Darix's ship continued to disperse into space. When at last I gathered my wits enough to pry my eyes from it, I turned to look at Tobey. His face was blank, even paler than usual, and frozen stiff. His hands trembled as they rested on his console beside the controls he had used to save our lives.

All at once I realized that Tobey’s conflicted feelings were completely different from mine. He had just _killed_ someone. He, who had spent his childhood as a villain and was now struggling to overcome the consequences and temptations of villainy, had just been forced to _kill_ someone. His actions were justified, and there was no reason he should feel guilty for them, but still… I couldn’t even imagine what he must be going through right now. He had done something that no one—especially someone like him—should _ever_ have to do.

And he had done it for _me_.

Rarely do I encounter a feeling that words can't describe, but one such feeling came over me at the moment when I looked at Tobey. I just wanted to thank him—and comfort him—in any way I could.

I floated over to his seat and turned it away from the view of the wreckage to face me instead. He seemed hesitant to look into my eyes, but when he did his expression warmed a little. I couldn’t force myself to smile, so instead, I grasped his shoulders and whispered, “Tobey… you saved us.”

“Yeah,” he said, swallowing and drawing an uneven breath. “I guess I did.”

I planted my feet on the floor and gently pulled Tobey up from the chair. When he was standing toe-to-toe with me, I wrapped him into a tight hug.

“Thank you,” I muttered, barely able to get the words out.

He didn’t speak, and he trembled as he returned my embrace.

I held him close for a long moment, just listening to him breathe. Captain Huggyface, God bless him, just stood by my side and didn’t make a sound. At long last, the tension in Tobey’s body began to relax, and I could finally sense _relief_ sinking into both of us, while the shock and trauma of everything slowly began to ebb.

I pulled away from him and looked him over, whether to check that he wasn't hurt or just to see him, I wasn't sure. Obviously, he was still wearing the Lexiconian suit that Darix had given him back when he made his insidious ultimatum, but now that terror of the moment had passed, I noticed how funny that was. _Tobey_ was wearing _my_ WordGirl costume.

I held a hand to my mouth and snickered.

“What?” Tobey asked.

Still smiling with amusement, I shamelessly teased, “You look good in red.”

Tobey's eyes widened, and his pale face changed color to match his suit. At that point, I couldn't reign it in any longer, and I burst into laughter. I wondered if I should feel bad about that, considering Tobey couldn't take the suit off until we got back to Earth.

“It's not funny!” Tobey exclaimed, still blushing behind the transparent face cover of the helmet.

“I'm sorry,” I mumbled insincerely through my laughter. “You just look so adorable!”

At that, his face glowed an even deeper red, and he turned away from me with a huff and crossed his arms.

“Hilarious,” he drawled. “We've got one more problem, though.”

I stopped laughing and asked, “What's that?”

“Well,” Tobey muttered, sounding suddenly melancholy and still facing away from me, “My suit only has a few minutes of oxygen left.”

My smile faded, and my heart stopped. “What? But, Darix said it had a full day's worth.”

Tobey turned to look at me with soft, resigned eyes. His face had returned to its usual color… or was it a little paler than usual? “When Darix attacked you in space,” he explained, “I had to leak my oxygen to propel myself to the ship.”

“Why would you do _that?_ ” I shouted.

Tobey regarded me with a somber, serious gaze. “You _know_ why.”

Huggy screeched and began furiously working on his control panel. I swallowed and flew into a panic. “Well, there must be something we can do! Maybe some oxygen tanks from the space station survived, or maybe—!”

“Becky!” Tobey grasped my shoulders to steady me and calmly met my gaze. “It's okay.”

I looked into his fearless eyes, and I burst into tears.

“No,” I yelled, shaking my head and trembling from head to toe. “No, Tobey, it's not okay! This is my fault… If I'd listened to you and stayed on Earth, none of this would have happened! And if _you_ _’d_ stayed, you would still be safe at home and I would be…”

I trailed off into sobs, unable to look Tobey in the eyes. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t accept that it was going to end like _this_. “Tobey, I… I…”

Huggy interrupted me with an informative squawk. I jolted in surprise and whirled ‘round to face him. “What do you mean, there's oxygen on the ship?!”

“Oh, why'd you tell her?” Tobey grumbled. “I wanted to hear what she was going to say!”

My jaw hit the floor. I was so confused I couldn't tell whether I was happy or angry. “Wait a minute! How can there be oxygen storage aboard, I mean—”

“Well, it wasn't really that hard,” Tobey bragged with a shrug. “I knew there had to be oxygen reserves on the space station to keep me alive, so I just gave the cargo bot instructions to load oxygen onto this ship, and then it interfaced with the station's computer to find out where oxygen was stored and simply—carried out my orders.”

I blinked at Tobey in disbelief, and as I gradually came to grasp the situation, my emotions settled, and my fingers slowly curled into tight fists. “Bu—! Wha—! Ga—! TOBEY!!!”

“What?” he asked defensively.

“Don't act all innocent,” I screamed, feeling an ironic urge to strangle him. “Why would you _do_ this to me?!”

“Do what? I _said_ it was okay!”

“I thought you were trying to comfort me, not scare the living daylights out of me for no reason!”

“What the heck, Becky? You were happier a second ago when you thought I was going to die!”

I levitated higher until I towered over Tobey, grasping at the air in front of his face and grunting in frustration. However, my relief finally won out over my anger, and I let out a long, resigned breath to soothe my poor, pounding heart. Tobey was still Tobey, after all, and it was about time I accepted that certain things about him were never going to change. Good or evil, he would probably always be dramatic and theatrical to the point of being aggravating and borderline hurtful. I was just going to have to learn to accept him, flaws and all, now that he was a constant in my life I would rather love than lose.

I crossed my arms, still frowning at him, and sourly muttered, “I'm glad you're okay.”

“Just glad?” he prodded with a smile.

I grit my teeth at his nerve, but I couldn’t deny that he'd earned it. “I'm _thrilled_ that you're okay. I'm _delighted_ that you're okay. I'm exuberant, blithe, ecstatic, absolutely _overjoyed_ that you're okay!”

“And?”

“And why are you still talking? I thought your suit was running out of oxygen!”

Huggy laughed loudly at us, and I allowed his mirth to rub off on me. Annoyance aside, this truly was a moment to celebrate. We had done the impossible. Our motley little trio of a monkey, a human, and a young Lexiconian, had defeated a criminal ring of quite literal super-villains, any one of whom could have physically overpowered all three of us. We had escaped with our lives, which was more than their leader could say. Thanks to Tobey and Huggy, I was free to return to Earth, and I would never have to worry about Darix coming back to haunt me. I owed them both more than I could ever repay, but that wouldn't stop me from trying.

“Come on, let's get our engines fixed,” I said, my voice bursting with joy, relief, and firm determination. “It's time to go home.”

 

« ... »

 

_There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build,_

— _Ecclesiastes 3:1-3_

 

* * *

 

**Author's Notes:**

**-** _**The End?** _ _**—** _ **I mentioned in my author** **’s notes back in chapter 7 (though I doubt anyone remembers by now) that there would be three places in the story that could work as an ending, depending on what kind of ending you like. Chapter 7 was the first ending—the sad ending. This is the second, happy ending. Feel free to keep reading if you want an even happier ending, but I warn you that the action is pretty much over at this point. Now I shall indulge myself in several chapters of fluffy denouement with little to no conflict. I’m giving y’all the heads up now because I don’t want to hear any complaints about how nothing is happening or how the story is suddenly nothing but sappy feels. Call me a fluff addict if you must, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. I like my denouement too much and I worked too hard to get to it, so there! *huffs***

**-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“All I Need to Know” by Thousand Foot Krutch—** _ **I kinda wish I could write out a line-by-line explanation for this one, but I think that would be excessive, so I** **’ll refrain. :P Basically I think of the first verse as being about Tobey realizing that all the confusion of his identity and complication of his intelligence can become insubstantial when he focuses on someone he loves rather than himself. The second verse is Becky realizing that she can put aside her doubts, questions, and fears about the future, and simply** _**trust** _ **.**

**-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“Time to Go Home” by Jacoo—** _ **Okay, I** **’ll be completely honest, the only reason I’m mentioning this song is because of its title. But I mean, come on! It’s called ‘Time to Go Home!’ Could YOU have resisted? XP That being said, the song isn’t as unfitting as you might think. In the first place, there aren’t really any lyrics and the only words are lines of dialogue from the movie ‘Gravity,’ but since the movie is set in space, the track has a very lonely, spacey vibe to it that I feel is somewhat fitting to the story as a whole. :)**


	29. Recrudescence

_**Hey, readers! This chapter references the episodes 'When Life Gives You Potatoes' and 'Invasion of the Bunny Lovers.'** _

 

**Foreword:**

**Okay, everyone... here begins the end. It** **’ll last way longer than it needs to, but that’s just how I roll. :) I hope everyone who elects to read it enjoys it as much as I do.**

 

* * *

 

Recrudescence [ree-kroo- **des** - _uh_ ns] – breaking out afresh or into renewed activity; revival or reappearance in active existence.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

“A meteor?” I screamed over the blaring of alarms, helplessly levitating between Tobey and Huggy as they struggled to control the rattling ship. “How could we have been hit by a meteor?”

Huggy shrieked as he worked with his console, saying that it was the same undetectable kind of dark matter asteroid we'd hit when we came to Earth the first time. I translated for him.

“Seriously?” Tobey yelled. “You're telling me that Lexiconian technology hasn't improved since Becky was a baby?”

He and Huggy tensed in their seats as the whole ship shook.

“We just got caught in Earth's gravitational field,” Tobey announced, his fingers blazing across his control panel. “We're entering the upper atmosphere now.”

I looked out the front window and saw the swirling white clouds in the planet's troposphere getting rapidly closer. The ship convulsed harder than ever now, and Tobey used one arm to brace himself while he continued to operate his panel with his free hand.

“We're descending too fast!” he shouted. “At this rate, the ship's going to come apart!”

“Hang on,” I said.

I pushed up against the ceiling of the cockpit, straining against the turbulence racking the bulkheads. The tumultuous din was murder on my super-hearing, and I wished like crazy I could cover my ears.

“All right, we're leveling out,” Tobey said, sounding relieved. “Still losing altitude fast though. It's gonna be a rough landing.”

Huggy yelled for me to keep even pressure on the hull while the ship was airborne.  
“Right,” I painfully acknowledged. I'd be lucky if all this shaking didn't scramble my brain.

Opening my eyes to look through the dome window, I saw the tops of trees rushing past just below, and a few seconds later, they were brushing right past us on either side. One or two exploded into splinters as the ship blew right through them, and I cringed at the rocking impact.

“Okay, Becky,” Tobey shouted over the noise, checking that his seatbelt was firmly in place. “I don't know if it's necessary in your case, but I recommend holding onto something!”

I gladly moved from the ceiling and seized the back of Tobey's seat, closing my eyes.

Huggy gave one last warning shout, gripping hard on his control stick, and the ship hit the ground with a thundering quake. Dirt and roots flew across our view as the ship rumbled to a stop, and at last the rocking, grinding, and blaring of alarms all ceased.

The three of us breathed a collective sigh of relief. At last, the nightmare of this whole experience was really over. We were home.

“We made it,” Tobey exclaimed. He turned his head to look at me, and our faces almost touched. He shied back a few inches with a nervous gasp and looked away. I gave a flustered laugh, then hovered up to the window and looked out at the serene forest scene before us. Sure there was a trail of destruction behind us, but it was out of sight, and out of mind. All that mattered now was the future.

Huggy flipped a switch, and the transparent dome split down the center and slowly withdrew into the ship on either side, opening to fresh air and the smell of earth.

Earth.

Tobey and I gave each other a knowing glance, and in unison we pressed the star on our matching spacesuits. The Lexiconian uniforms disappeared in a flash, and then we were both back in our normal clothes. Tobey took in a deep, satisfied breath, and exhaled with a bright smile.

“I never thought I'd be so happy to be out in the middle of the wilderness,” he said.

The three of us climbed out together and stood on the nose of the ship to take a look around.

“Hey, look,” Tobey exclaimed, pointing, and I followed his finger to a sight that made me gasp. Just a short distance from where we were, was _my_ spaceship hideout!

“Wow, Huggy,” I said, half complimenting, half condescending, “You sure like to crash in this spot, don't you?”

Huggy gave a smile and an embarrassed shrug. Then Tobey, for no apparent reason, lit up with excitement. “Ooh!” he babbled. “Does this mean I get my own spaceship hideout now?”

He looked at me with a pleading, exuberant grin, bobbing up and down in anticipation.

I gave him a nervous look, but smiled and murmured with a roll of my eyes, “Oh, why not?”

Huggy folded his arms, giving a sharp chirp of protest.

I folded my arms right back at him and said, “Don’t give me that, you _do_ have one.”

He made a questioning squeal in retort, to which I said, “ _You_ _’re_ the one who insisted we call ours ‘The Official WordGirl _and_ Captain Huggyface Hideout.’

Huggy wilted but didn’t argue further. He waved from Tobey to Darix’s ship in a sort of ‘go ahead’ gesture, and Tobey grinned from ear to ear.

“WHOO!” he yelled, flinging his fists in the air, and he jumped right back into the ship. I poked my head in after him, shocked that he'd want to go back in there so soon after all that just happened. Tearing through the debris scattered all over the ship's cockpit, he rattled off a string of techno-babble using words that _I_ could barely understand in the context he was using them. From the looks of how much fun he was having in there, I'd be lucky if he ever came out again.

I wanted to heave an exasperated sigh, but instead, I found myself beaming. I found myself thinking back to the uncertainties that had plagued me on the day I’d seen this ship for the first time, and I realized something… At long last, the unexpected problem was solved, and the burning questions had been answered.

Could I trust Tobey with my life?

Clearly.

Could I trust him with my heart?

Definitely.

He had proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that he could love me selflessly—that he would risk his own life for my sake. And really, what more could I hope for, or even want? I fondly watched him bounce around in the ship like a kid in a candy store, and this time I welcomed the warm, hopeful feelings that flowed through me.

I sighed and looked down at Captain Huggyface, who had his arms folded and was smiling wryly at me. I crossed my own arms and turned away from him to hide my face.

Just then my super-hearing picked up two familiar voices coming from the forest near the ship.

“Whatever it was, it was huge!”

“It sounded like it came from over here.”

I gasped with excitement. “It's Scoops and Violet! Come on, Huggy.”

Huggy enthusiastically hopped up onto my back and I zipped down to the ground just as the couple came running up to the ship. They halted just long enough to gasp when they saw me, then smiled and raced toward me with all the more urgency.

“Becky!” they shouted together.

“Violet! Scoops!” I flew over to them in rapture and hugged them both at once. Even Huggy participated as best he could from his perch on my shoulders. “What are you two doing out here?”

They pulled back from me and Violet wiped a tear from her eye. “We were just out on a conveniently timed nature hike to brainstorm ideas for Scoops' 'Farewell, Dear WordGirl' article.”

“Yeah,” offered Scoops, looking mildly dejected as he mumbled on, “the _second_ biggest story of my life which… evidently, no one will ever read.” He heaved a little sigh, then perked up and said with a chipper smile, “But, hey, it’s great to see you again so soon! What happened? Are they done with you already?”

“You could say that,” I muttered with a sarcastic laugh.

“But how can that be?” Violet asked, looking relieved but confused. “You've only been gone a few days.”

I did a double-take. Had it really only been a few days? Remembering what the time limit on Tobey's oxygen had been and how fast everything had happened since then, I realized that it added up. Still… It was hard to believe so much had happened in such a short time.

“It's a long story,” I said, clasping my hands in front of me. “I'll tell you all about it later.”

“Does it _have_ to be later?” Scoops complained. “Long stories are my favorite kind!”

“Sorry, Scoops,” I said. “I need to take a break from all this before I try to talk about it.”

Scoops lowered his head in disappointment.

“Hey, Becky!” Tobey's voice called out, and we all looked back at the ship to see him pop his upper half out into the sunlight. “The cargo droid I used to escape is still functional! I'm going to call him…”

Tobey trailed off, looking down at present company like he'd noticed them for the first time. His smile disappeared and he cleared his throat, using his British accent when he continued, “I mean, I intend to keep it and give it a suitable name, since… you know.”

He withdrew back into the ship, and I felt a sudden thrill of worry. _Cuddlepie!_ I rifled through my pockets in a panic and found him there in his miniature form nestled safely in the pocket where I’d put him just before Tobey and I initiated our escape plan. I breathed a sigh of deep relief. If I’d lost that little dog during my fight with Darix, I might never have forgiven myself.

“I'm so glad Tobey is with you,” Violet said, turning to face me and placing a hand on her chest. “Mrs. McCallister has been worried _sick_.”

A pang of guilty sympathy shot through me when I remembered Tobey's mother. That poor woman… I'd have to make sure and get Tobey home as soon as possible.

“Wait a minute,” Scoops said, perking with interest. “Did he say 'escape'?”

I hesitated, sensing that his reporter instincts were kicking into high gear and it was too late to stop them. I supposed there was no point in purposely keeping him in the dark, though. “Um… Yeah.”

He lit up with excitement. “And all this _just_ _happened_?”

“Mm-hmm,” I answered nervously.

“Does Tobey have any robots on hand?”

I blinked, thrown off guard by the out-of-place question, and said without thinking, “I… _think_ they were all destroyed in the battle.”

“Battle?” Violet exclaimed in surprise.

Scoops beamed a wide, open-mouthed smile. “Holy cow, this is my lucky day!”

He turned to his girlfriend and said, “Wait here, Violet. I've gotta go corner Tobey for an interview now that everything is fresh in his mind and it'll be harder for him to get away.”

With that Scoops clambered up the front of the ship like a squirrel and hopped inside, leaving us girls staring incredulously after him. Huggy folded his arms and shook his head.

All of a sudden Violet darkened and turned to me with a concerned look on her face.

“Um, Becky,” she muttered, grasping her left arm with her right hand and averting her eyes. “What you said right before you left… about Scoops…”

I froze, struck with regret. If I'd known I'd be coming home so soon, I most certainly would _never_ have made that confession.

“Oh, that?” I laughed nervously. “That was nothing!”

“Becky, if I'd known that _you_ liked him, you know I never would have—”

“Of course I know! That's why I never said anything!”

“I just don't want you to think that I'm the type of person who would steal my best friend's—”

I screamed on instinct, covering my ears. In my embarrassment I started babbling so fast I could hardly keep up with myself, hoping I wouldn't realize too late that I'd said something unbelievably stupid. “No! I would never think that! Why would you think I would think that? You're such a good friend, Violet, and I didn't want to come between you two. That's why I never said anything before. I wish I'd _still_ never said anything. Can we _please_ just drop this already?”

I could feel myself blushing, and _that_ wasn't helping. Violet was looking more concerned by the second. Tears started to gather in her eyes.

“Well, I mean…” she muttered in an unsteady voice. “Do you still have feelings for him?”

“Absolutely not! Now I like—”

I cut myself off mid-sentence, realizing too late that I'd said something unbelievably stupid. I stuttered and clumsily finished, “uh—someone else.”

Violet blinked in surprise, then her face softened into a gentle smile. “Oh. I see.” She pointed over at the spaceship and shamelessly mimicked my tone as she repeated, “Someone… _else._ ”

My cheeks burned and I shrank in front of Violet, wishing I could spontaneously develop the power to turn invisible. She just giggled and added, “Guess my prediction was right after all.”

I shied back, asking in flabbergasted surprise, “Your prediction?”

Violet nodded and looked over at the ship with a thoughtful look on her face. “My timing was a bit off, though.”

I forced a nervous laugh and looked down at my feet, speechless in shock. That explained why she'd never picked up on my old thing for Scoops. Though, I still wasn't convinced that _she_ hadn't spontaneously developed the ability to read minds.

“Have you told him?” she asked.

“Not yet,” I admitted. Heck, I'd just barely _realized_ my feelings, much less had time to work up the courage to tell _Tobey_ about them.

“Let me know when you decide to tell him,” Violet requested, tenderly grasping my hands in her own.

I smiled back at her and said with a quick giggle, “Violet, you'll probably know before _I_ do.”

A ruckus rose up from the direction of the ship and Tobey came tumbling out, followed by Scoops who managed to stay right on his tail despite his focus being buried in his notepad.

“Oh, for the love of all things sacred,” Tobey blasted, grasping his head in frustration. “What part of 'no comment' do you not understand?!”

“A good reporter never takes 'no comment' for an answer,” Scoops stated proudly, sticking his pencil in the air. “I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what this 'daring escape' and 'epic battle' were all about.”

“I don't recall using either one of those adjectives!” Tobey shouted in Scoops' face, making a fist.

They continued toward us, Tobey covering his ears and yelling while Scoops continued to pelt him with loaded questions.

“Becky!” Tobey said angrily. “Would you kindly tell your ex to leave me alone?”

“Nice try,” Scoops said, smacking Tobey with his notepad, “but trying to embarrass me isn't going to get you out of this.”

Well, at least Scoops wasn't embarrassed. That made _one_ of us. I seized my spite at Tobey for having the nerve to say something like that and decided to channel it instead into getting back at him. Donning a stern smile as well as my superhero costume, I gestured for Huggy to jump on my back, which he did immediately, and then I floated up behind Tobey.

“Maybe not,” I said in response to Scoops, grabbing Tobey's shoulder and pulling him toward me. “But his higher obligations will.”

Scoops and Violet both blinked, and Tobey curiously asked, “What higher obligations?”

I picked him up off the ground and casually said, “ _We_ need to go see our parents.”

Tobey's eyes widened in fear, and I relished my sweet revenge as I carried him off into the city.

 

« ... »

 

“ _At that time I will gather you; at that time I will bring you home. I will give you honor and praise among all the peoples of the earth when I restore your fortunes before your very eyes," says the LORD._

— _Zephaniah 3:20_

 

* * *

 

**Author's Notes:**

**-** _**Huggy** _ _**’s Spaceship Hideout—** _ **When Becky mentions how her spaceship hideout belongs to both her and her sidekick, she** **’s referring to the beginning of ‘When Life Gives You Potatoes.’ Huggy made puppy-dog eyes at her when she called it simply, “The official WordGirl hideout,” so she instead said, “The official WordGirl** _**and** _ **Captain Huggyface hideout.** **”**

**-** _**“The second biggest story of my life…”—** _ **When Scoops said this, it was a callback to the end of** **‘Invasion of the Bunny Lovers,’ when he bemoaned his bittersweet discovery of WordGirl’s secret identity by saying, “The biggest story of my life… and no one will ever read it.” Poor Scoops. :( Kid needs a hug and some ice cream. XP**

**-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“Angel in My Heart” by Jump 5** _ **— Fits from both perspectives. :3**

**-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“Someday Soon” by Francesca Battistelli** _ **— And this is how Becky feels, now that she** **’s not pushing her feelings away anymore.**


	30. Mavourneen

**Foreword:**

**Tobey** **’s mom, and Tobey’s childlike terror of her, made Tobey’s character so much more interesting and endearing than he would’ve been if he just played the fearless, cocky genius 100% of the time. As such, in the rare instances when I’ve had the opportunity to explore their relationship in my fanfiction, I’ve found myself absolutely captivated. T-T I just can’t help seeing so much deeper into both of them than the cartoon ever did that I find myself compelled to draw forth the full beauty and tragedy from their tainted yet obvious bond. The same goes for Becky and TJ—minus the childlike terror, of course. XP Thus, even though this chapter has comparatively little focus on the story’s central relationship, it was actually one of my favorite chapters to write. :3**

 

**Oh, and sorry I missed posting last week. I had a conference over the weekend and I forgot to mention it in my Author's Notes for the previous chapter. I'm back now, though. On with the fluff! XD**

 

* * *

 

Mavourneen [m _uh_ - **voo r** -neen] – darling; dear.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

Tobey cringed as we approached his house, and I could hear his heartbeat getting faster.

“Um, maybe you should just drop me off at the end of my street,” he apprehensively suggested.

“Why?” I asked.

“Just… so I can have some time to mentally prepare.”

“Tobey, you just took on a space station full of superpowered aliens and _won_. Don’t tell me you're still afraid to face your _mom._ ”

“Hey, don't compare my mother to those third-rate goons,” Tobey snapped. “The worst _they_ could do was kill me…”

Huggy and I exchanged an amused look. Nonetheless, I relented and came in for a landing down the street from his house. I set him down and alighted beside him, taking a look at his face. He was sweating, and his pupils were dilated. It was hard to find his behavior completely funny when it was obvious how genuinely nervous he was.

“Tobey,” I said with concern, “your mom loves you. She'll be _happy_ to see you. There's no reason be afraid.”

Tobey shivered and swallowed hard. “She might be happy to see me,” he said. “But I might not have ears the next time _you_ see me.”

I was about to say something more, but Huggy suddenly hopped down from my back and stood in front of Tobey before I had a chance. I wasn't sure what Huggy wanted to say to Tobey, but I stood ready to translate for him. I was surprised when, instead of going into chimp-speak, he silently pointed down the street.

Tobey looked from Huggy to where he was pointing, and then back to Huggy. “My mom?”

Huggy made an angry grimace, crossed his hands in front of his face, then pointed at Tobey.

I blinked in confusion at this display, but Tobey seemed to understand perfectly.

“My mom isn't mad at me,” Tobey said with a smile.

Huggy nodded, looked scared all of a sudden, and splayed out one hand for Tobey to see. Tobey gave a weak chuckle and a half-smile, and without taking a moment to think he interpreted, “She's afraid for me.”

Huggy nodded, and I was baffled at how effortlessly Tobey had guessed the meaning of his gestures. It was like they'd done this before.

My sidekick waddled right up to Tobey, looking at him with soft, tender eyes. He held up both hands and clasped them together, squeaking encouragingly.

Tobey gave a weak chuckle and listlessly said, “Thanks, Bob.” He sighed, looking a _little_ braver, but still uneasy.

“Tobey, it'll be fine,” I said. “Trust me.”

Tobey nodded, though he didn't look entirely convinced. Taking a deep breath, he slumped his shoulders and began dragging his feet along the sidewalk toward his house. I watched him for a moment, torn between amusement and sympathy. When he was out of earshot I looked inquisitively down at Huggy.

“What was _that_ about?” I asked.

Huggy shrugged with a smile but offered no explanation. I brushed it off, resigned that it must not be important. As I thought about Huggy and Tobey's interaction, though, an idea occurred to me.

I pulled my phone from my belt and dialed Tobey's house. I was both relieved and disappointed when I got the answering machine instead of his mother in person.

“Hello, Mrs. McCallister. It's WordGirl,” I said. “I just wanted to let you know that Tobey is okay, and he's coming home. Please don't be too hard on him, because he saved my life out there… Bye.”

I hung up and sighed. It wasn't a very good message, but it was something. I wondered what the chances were that Mrs. McCallister would get it before her son got home. With the speed Tobey was traveling at, probably not as bad as one would think.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

As soon as my house came into view, I saw my mother standing outside the door, and my muscles clenched in fear. It was like she knew I was coming and was waiting to pounce on me as soon as I got close enough. I swallowed, telling myself that was ridiculous… Still, there was no telling what she'd do when she saw me.

No sooner had this thought taken form in my mind, she looked up. Our eyes met, and my heart stopped. This was it. My life was over.

Her mouth fell open, and she ran toward me, turning the bend as she left our driveway so sharply she might have left marks on the pavement.

“Mother, I can explain!” I braced myself, expecting her to scream my full name and drag me into the house by my ear. Instead, she crushed me with a bear hug.

“Oh, my baby,” she blubbered, her words punctuated by sobs. “I was afraid I'd never see you again!”

Her arms tightened around me until it was hard to breathe, and I felt her fingers run through my hair as she clamped one hand over the back of my head.

I was dumbstruck in my shock. Who was this woman and what had she done with my mother?

“Mom,” I muttered as soon as I was able to draw enough breath, “are you okay?”

She gave a tearful laugh and nuzzled my face. “I am now.”

I gasped for air when she finally pulled away from me, still firmly clinging to my arms. She looked into my eyes with a radiant smile rather than the intimidating glower I'd expected, and I noticed for the first time that her hair was down and she wasn't wearing her usual makeup. She really looked like a completely different person. Strange… I never would have thought that my absence would have such a strong effect on her. It actually made me feel a little… guilty.

“Oh,” she mumbled, caressing my left cheek. “My sweet boy.”

At this point, my face felt like it was on fire, partly from embarrassment and partly from… some other more pleasant emotion that I didn't want to admit. I just about passed out from shock when she grabbed my head from either side and kissed me—on my cheek, my forehead, my other cheek, and so on—five or six times before my brain recovered from the shock and I had the sense to push her away.

“Mother! For goodness' sake, we're in public!”

Heart pounding, I nervously looked around to see if anyone was watching. Fortunately, the coast appeared to be clear… unless someone was watching from somewhere I couldn't see.

“Well, let's go inside then, shall we?” Mom said, sounding _far_ too happy.

Without any further warning, she swept me up into her arms and walked back toward the house, holding me like she would a baby despite my most vehement protests. Why was I _still_ so much _smaller_ than her? If my mother could still physically overpower me by the time I was a grown man, no level of genius would ever help me live it down.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

I smiled fondly, hiding in the tree in Tobey's yard, watching the touching moment unfold before my eyes. It was hard not to laugh at how Tobey reacted to his mother's outpouring of affection, as though he hadn't expected anything like it. I practically _told_ him this would happen, and yet he was surprised. It was kind of funny, and also really sad, that the only person who didn't know how much Mrs. McCallister loved Tobey… was _Tobey_. Perhaps tearing down the communication barrier between the two of them would be my next pet project.

I couldn't restrain my giggles anymore when I saw the woman pick Tobey up like an infant and carry him kicking and screaming back to their house, and Huggy joined me in laughing at him. Maybe I would hold him like that the next time I had to fly him somewhere, just to bother him. Of course, if it was me, it might not bother him nearly as much.

My heart fluttered a bit as these silly thoughts drifted through my mind, and I absentmindedly raised a hand to my chest. So this was what being in love felt like. It was so different from how my crush on Scoops had felt. It was layered and colored and textured, like a painting. It wasn't all pleasant—in fact, certain parts of it were downright maddening—but when you took a step back and looked at the whole picture, it was beautiful.

Tobey and his mother disappeared into their house, and I turned to my faithful friend and sidekick, who was once again staring at me with that annoying wry grin he’d taken to recently.

“Come on, Huggy,” I said with a roll of my eyes, emphatically picking him up the way Claire had picked up Tobey. Ignoring his disgruntled mutterings about his dignity, I quietly drifted out of the tree and headed in the direction of the Botsford home.

It was time for us to go see our own family.

 

« … »

 

During my flight to my house, I grew exceedingly curious about how I would find things at home. I had to keep reminding myself that I'd only been gone for a few days, and my family probably hadn't even had time to start missing me yet. The only reason Tobey's mother had reacted the way she did was because of the way Tobey had disappeared. My family knew I was leaving, so there was no reason for them to worry. Still, I knew how relieved they would be that I wasn't going back to Lexicon after all.

The house came into view, and I took a few measured breaths to still the beating of my heart as I touched down in the front yard. I pressed the star on my chest and reverted back to my Earth clothes, then smiled and walked up to the door.

I decided to ring the doorbell instead of flying in through a window. It would be more of a surprise this way. The surprise was on me, however, when I rang the doorbell and nothing happened. I glanced at the driveway and saw the family car, so they must be home, right? My curiosity tilted toward worry as I rang the bell again. Still no answer. I bit my lip and reconsidered the window option.

Inside, everything was quiet. The house was unusually clean even by my Dad's standards, but there was no sign of my Dad. No toys or WordGirl paraphernalia betrayed any sign of TJ, and Mom's glowing touch was gone without a trace as well.

“Hello?” I called out, levitating to the middle of the living room and looking around high and low. “Is anyone home.”

I drifted down the hall, glancing back and forth. “It's Becky. I'm home. Where is everyone?” I came to my room and opened the door to glance inside. Everything was exactly as I'd left it.

“Hello?” I yelled, genuinely nervous now. “Is anyone here?”

I found myself at TJ's room. The door was open, and I could tell from one look inside that this was the only room in the house that wasn't squeaky clean. I floated inside and was shocked to see that everything WordGirl-related—the toys, the posters, the stationary—had all been torn from its usual place. A large cardboard box at the foot of the bed looked like it had a corner of a poster sticking out the top, and when I opened it I found, with a pang of heartache, all of TJ's WordGirl stuff haphazardly piled inside.

I almost burst into tears right then. Was my brother really that angry with me for leaving? Did he _hate_ me? Had I really hurt him that much?

I sniffled and closed the box, quickly turning away from it—and behind me, I saw TJ standing in the doorway. I blinked in surprise. He stood there stiff as a board, gaping at me in shock like I was a ghost.

“TJ?” I said, feeling a mixture of guilt and relief.

“B-Becky?” he murmured, seemingly with great difficulty. He dropped the baseball he was holding, and I noticed for the first time that he was dressed in his baseball hat and shirt.

I forced a smile and straightened, announcing as calmly as I could, “I'm back.”

“For good?”

I nodded.

TJ's blank face finally began to crumble with emotion, and he rushed me with such force that I almost fell backward onto his bed when he collided with me. He didn't say anything. Just squeezed me tight and made muffled crying noises. It was enough to trigger my own tears, and I stood there hugging him until he pulled back from me and wiped his eyes shamefully.

“I prayed you would come back,” he said in a small, vulnerable voice. “Maybe there's a God, after all.”

“You're not mad at me?” I asked.

“I was mad at you for _leaving_ ,” said TJ, crossing his arms and frowning at me.

“Oh.” I lowered my head and clasped my hands, sheepishly asking, “Is that why you packed up all your WordGirl stuff?”

TJ softened and averted his eyes. “Not really,” he admitted reluctantly. “I just couldn't look at it anymore… It made me too sad.”

I smiled as a warm feeling rushed over me. “Well, in that case, I'll help you put it all back.”

“Are you kidding?” he snapped. “You can put it all back _yourself!_ ”

Normally I would have been mad. As it was, I could only smile and hug him around the neck like a big teddy bear. “You've got it, little brother.”

“TJ,” I heard Mom's voice call out, “Have you found your glove yet?”

TJ ran out into the hall and shouted, “I found something better! Come see!”

“Son, what could be better than a baseball glove?” my Dad's voice jokingly retorted.

My heart leaped once more in my chest when my parents both appeared in the doorway. I flashed over to them before I had a chance to see their shocked faces and bound them together in a single hug.

“I'm home,” I greeted, heart racing with joy.

“Becky?”

“Honey!”

Two pairs of arms wrapped around me and the room exploded with laughter and tears. They each kissed me on one cheek at the same time, and lovingly fondled my face as they barraged me with questions and exclamations. “We were so worried about you!” “What are you doing back so soon?” “I didn't think we'd even _hear_ from you for weeks!” “Is everything okay, dear?”

I smiled and giggled ecstatically. “Don't worry, I'll explain everything,” I promised. “Right now, though… I'm just glad to be here.”

“Oh, and we're even gladder for you to be here, sweetheart!” Dad babbled with tears pouring down his face. “I'm so grateful for whatever or whoever brought you back.”

I resisted the urge to give TJ a sly smile when I proudly announced, “That would be Tobey.”

“What?!” TJ fumed.

“Tobey brought me home,” I said unable to resist the urge any longer. I _did_ , however, resist the urge to say that he’d saved my life as well. I didn’t want to spoil this light, happy moment with anything heavy or sad.

TJ folded his arms and grumbled under his breath while Mom exuberantly announced that Tobey would get the royal Botsford thank-you treatment.

“Oh, I don't know if he'd survive that,” I joked, “especially right after the royal welcome-home treatment he's getting from his mom.”

“So he's home too, then?” Mom affirmed. “Oh, I'm so glad. You wouldn't believe how devastated Claire has been since I told her that her son followed WordGirl into space.”

“I have a vague idea,” I said, unable to resist chuckling at the recent memory of the McCallister family reunion.

“Dear, are you okay,” Dad asked placing a hand on my forehead. “Your face is turning red.”

“Huh? Oh… n-no, I'm fine. Oh, hey, I was wondering,” I babbled, eager to change the subject, “Where were you guys? The car was still in the driveway when I got here.”

Mom gave an embarrassed chuckle and said, “Oh, that was my doing. Everyone was so depressed. Your father couldn't stop cleaning, and TJ just kept moping around the house, so I thought it might be good for all of us to go get some fresh air and sunshine.”

I felt sad and touched as I listened to her story, moved at the reminder of just how much my family loved me. It didn't matter that I was adopted, or that I was an alien from another planet, or that I had lied to them about my double-life until I was twelve years old. I was theirs, and they were mine. Common blood couldn't make bonds any more real than that.

“We were going to walk to the park and play baseball,” Mom continued with a chuckle, “and halfway there TJ remembered that he'd forgotten his glove. How's _that_ for serendipity, huh?”

“Scaring _what_ now?” asked Dad.

“Serendipity,” I repeated, my old instincts kicking in as I pointed a finger in the air. “It means good luck or a fortunate coincidence. TJ remembering his glove and making everyone come back for it right at the time when _I_ arrived at the house is serendipity.”

“That's our girl,” Mom said proudly, mussing up my hair.

I could have fainted from sheer happiness. It was sooooo _good_ to be home.

 

« ... »

 

_I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth._

— _3 John 1:4_

 

* * *

 

**Author's Notes:**

**-** _**Out of Clairacter** _ _**—** _ **If you, like Tobey, were surprised by the way his mom behaved in this chapter, allow me to explain myself a bit. I imagine that Claire McCallister is not nearly as stern and hard-nosed by nature as she tends to appear in the show. Usually when she appears in an episode it** **’s in a disciplinary capacity, in response to Tobey doing something bad. However, I’ve noticed that when we see her in situations where she’s** _**not** _ **having to deal with Tobey shenanigans, she seems a much kinder, happier type of woman. In** **‘Mobot’ when she reads the fake letter Tobey sends her excusing him from parent-teacher day, she smiles and says, “Good job, Tobey.” And in ‘Guess Who’s Coming to Thanksgiving Dinner’ she’s even** _**more** _ **meek and jovial, showing a full spectrum of facial expressions, being very grateful and polite, and even calling Tobey her** **‘sweet boy’ (which I thought was so telling and adorable that I ended up reprising it in this chapter as well as in one of the bonus scenes I wrote for ‘Saving Tobey’). Consequently, I see Claire as a somewhat tragic figure who wants to be a joyful, proud, understanding mom, but because her son insists on being such a troublesome boy, she has no choice but to emulate a personality far more strict and heavy-handed than the one that is natural for her. Poor woman… :( Tobey doesn’t appreciate her nearly enough in my opinion.**


	31. Propinquity

_**Hey, readers! This chapter references the episode 'Robo Camping.'** _

 

**Foreword:**

**This chapter was fun. XP As much as I love touching, one-on-one interactions that deeply develop the characters** **’ personal relationships, there’s something uniquely enjoyable about throwing everyone in a room together and just seeing what happens. ;)**

 

* * *

 

Propinquity [proh- **ping** -kwi-tee] – affinity of nature; similarity.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

“Hurry, Becky!” Dad shouted from the living room. “Your mother and TJ just got home, and our guests will be here any minute!”

I rolled up my sleeves, then flashed around the kitchen, gathering up the plates, silverware, and napkins, and laying them all out in a matter of seconds. “The table is done,” I announced, then remembered the centerpiece. I zipped over to the countertop by the window and grabbed the flower arrangement I'd collected from Dad's garden. I set it on the table and absentmindedly started primping and grooming it, trying to get it to look the best it possibly could.

“What are you doing?” TJ asked, and I turned to see him hauling two enormous bags of groceries into the kitchen.

“Oh, nothing,” I said, feeling suddenly embarrassed as I abandoned the centerpiece. “Here, let me get those.”

I took the bags from TJ and set them down on the counter, then zapped to and fro from the car three more times, leaving the countertop covered in bags. I floated in the air, smiling at TJ, and he frowned at me and muttered, “Showoff.”

Bob drooled, his eyes growing bigger as he gawked at the spoils of Mom's shopping trip.

“Thank you, Becky,” Mom exclaimed, prancing happily into the kitchen. “We're having chicken à la king served over waffles!”

“I'm making the chicken!” Dad announced.

“I'm making the waffles!” Mom announced in turn.

She plugged in her bunny-shaped waffle iron, and I got out the mixing bowls for her while she gathered the needed ingredients from the grocery bags.

“But wouldn't it have been better to start cooking earlier?” I observed.

Mom laughed and dismissively waved her hand. “We'll be finished in a jiffy.”

“And besides,” Dad added, “this'll give everyone a chance to socialize before we sit down to eat.”

Shortly after our dramatic homecoming a week ago, I had realized that, unless Tobey and I told the story to everyone at once, we would both end up having to tell it over and over again. So I had suggested we have a formal get-together to inform those who needed to know what had happened—everyone who knew that I was WordGirl, plus Mrs. McCallister. I was still feeling a little apprehensive about _that_ part. Telling her what had happened would mean telling her that I was WordGirl, and letting a new person in on my secret was always scary, however much I trusted them. Honestly, though, I was somewhat relieved. If Claire McCallister knew my secret identity, that meant one less awkward frustration in my relationship with her son—although it also meant one more complication. Indeed the future held many concerns, but I was _determined_ not to let them ruin this evening for me. My euphoria at being home hadn't worn off yet. Plus, I was really anxious to see Tobey—both anxious as in excited, and anxious as in nervous.

There was a knock on the door. I flashed into the living room to open it, and there on the welcome mat stood Scoops and Violet. They were both smiling, though Scoops’s smile was vigorous and energetic while Violet’s was soft and mellow.

Scoops waved a hand that was still partly hooked around the strap of a large messenger bag hanging from his shoulder and briskly said, “Hey, Becky. I lack the decorum to pretend I'm not super-excited to hear your story, so I'm just going to be honest. I AM SUPER-EXCITED TO HEAR YOUR STORY!”

Violet hugged me in lieu of a hello. She whispered in my ear, sounding concerned, “I hope this isn't going to be traumatic for you.”

I tensed. “Why? Do you sense something?”

She gave a reassuring giggle, then pulled back from me and casually said, “I just know that it was quite an ordeal you had out there.”

“ _How_ do you know?” I asked, half expecting a confession about _Violet's_ secret superpowers.

Her simple response was, “Because I know _you_.”

I gave a nervous chuckle. Nice to know that she could read me like a book and that I would never be able to keep a secret from her again, no matter how hard I tried. Perhaps that was my just punishment for hurting her so badly when she found out I was WordGirl.

My super-hearing picked up the sound of a car starting down our street, and I swallowed in anticipation as Violet and Scoops went inside the house. I considered going to meet the new arrivals outside, but my nerves won out and I instead withdrew inside and pretended I hadn't heard anything. I waited by the door, though, until TJ noticed and once again asked me what I was doing.

“Hmm? What?”

I almost hadn't heard him, focused as I was on listening for voices inside the car that had just pulled into our driveway.

TJ gave a disapproving frown and grumbled in frustration, “Can you at least _pretend_ you're not stupid-excited to see that jerk?”

“TJ, remember our talk.” I reminded in a warning tone.

TJ made an annoyed face and then skulked off, grumbling.

There was a knock at the door, and my heart leaped in my chest. I'd been distracted by TJ and forgot to listen to what was happening outside. Taking a breath and ignoring the rapid beating of my heart, I opened the door.

Mrs. McCallister beamed, tightly grasping a disgruntled, blushing Tobey around his shoulders as she waved with her free hand. His eyes widened when he looked up at me, and for a moment I fancied I could read his mind… _Crackers and jam, why did SHE have to be the one to answer the door?!_

I grinned at my own silly musings and turned the smile into part of my greeting. “Good afternoon, Mrs. McCallister,” I said as I stepped aside to let them in. A lot more familiarly, I added, “Hello, Tobey.”

“It's good to see you, Becky dear,” the woman said, her voice chipper and her countenance mirthful.

They came through the doorway, and Tobey at last wriggled free of his mother's grasp as she headed into the kitchen, calling out greetings to the rest of my family. I grinned at Tobey, suppressing a laugh as I watched him straighten his glasses and feign indifference.

“She seems happy,” I observed.

“ _Too_ happy,” Tobey groaned. “I miss my old mom.”

I giggled and lightly crossed my arms. “Oh, come on, Tobey,” I teased, “Admit that you like it.”

Tobey glanced at me with flustered sincerity, then averted his eyes, and to my surprise he murmured in a small, shameful voice, “I like it a _little_ …”

I relaxed my arms and smiled warmly. Just then Bob pranced into the room and chirped at Tobey, offering him his hand.

“He says he's happy to see you,” I translated.

“I kind of figured,” Tobey said with a smile as he shook Bob's hand.

Bob turned to me and sternly rattled off a long string of chimp-speak, earning a questioning look from Tobey.

“What did he say?”

I rolled my eyes. “He says we need to make sure and let _him_ tell part of the story at dinner tonight.”

Tobey tensed, and his expression grew uneasy. He stared at the floor and tapped his index fingers together. “We don't… have to tell them… _everything_ , do we?”

“Oh, absolutely _not_ ,” I wholeheartedly agreed. my cheeks grew warm at the mere thought of it. Tobey breathed a sigh of relief, and Bob sniggered at us. I had never been more grateful that my sidekick wasn't capable of human speech.

Mrs. McCallister came back into the living room and happily said, “Dear, you have no idea how keen I am to hear about what happened. My Tobey wouldn't tell me a _thing_ , you know. So, will your alter ego be joining us, or will you just be doing this as yourself, then?”

I gasped in surprise and glanced at Tobey. He shook his head, looking just as shocked as I was.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“I'm talking about WordGirl, silly,” she said with a smile.

I was dumbstruck.

“Wait a minute, you _know_?” Tobey exclaimed.

My mom poked her head out from the kitchen and nonchalantly said, “Well, we didn't have much choice but to tell her, Tobey. You and Becky both disappeared on the same day WordGirl went into space.”

Tobey and I both stood there, dumbfounded, and I felt silly for not considering that before.

“Oh, well, that's—great,” I muttered, sheepish at first, but gradually becoming sincere. After all, I was already resigned to telling her, and this way I was spared the difficulty of having to do it myself. Honestly, judging by the stunned look on his face, Tobey was more upset by this than I was.

“Why didn't you tell me you knew, mother?” he murmured in disbelief, so bewildered that he neglected to use his accent. “I've been home for almost a week!”

“You never asked, dear,” his mother replied, giving him an affectionate pat on the head.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

It took a few minutes for me to get over the shock of finding out that my mother had already known about Becky being WordGirl. I was lamentably growing more and more certain that I would never get the better of that woman. Still feeling a bit flustered, I decided to put that business aside for now. What was done was done, and there was no sense brooding over it—especially when there were so many more important things to brood over.

Glancing across the room, I saw that Scoops had closed in on Becky and was already trying to get an exclusive. I frowned. That cheater couldn't even wait until dinner? Annoyed, I huffed over to him and sternly said, “Hey, I said no recording devices!”

Scoops gave me his signature 'innocent reporter' look and held up his instrument. “It's a notepad.”

“It's a recording device,” I insisted.

Becky sighed and stepped forward. “Tobey, you can't separate Scoops from his notepad. That would be like you being stranded on a deserted island with no technology.”

“Oh, come now, Becky, you can't give him preferential treatment just because you used to—”

She zapped behind me and clamped a hand over my mouth, indicating that she knew what I was planning to say. “You behave yourself,” she grumbled in a warning tone. Her breath tickled my ear, and a shudder ran down my spine. It was unfair how easily she could disarm me—physically _and_ emotionally. I struggled in her grip, mostly for appearance's sake, and just hoped I wasn't blushing.

“You're fine, Scoops,” she muttered as though I weren't there. “Just change the names, and if anyone ever asks, say you're dabbling in creative fiction.”

“Ooh! Can I pick the name you use for Tobey?” TJ asked.

I uselessly flailed my fists and glared at the little brat, pelting him with muffled shouts whilst Becky continued to stifle me. I fell still when her voice whispered gently in my ear, “Don't let him get to you, Tobey. If he gets to you, he wins.”  
Her words stirred my ego and quelled my outburst, which was ironic since the stirring of my ego usually accomplished just the opposite.

“I heard Mrs. Botsford's voice fortuitously call out, “Becky, don't look now, but I'm making your favorite as a side dish.”

Becky gasped. “Split pea soup?”

“Yes!”

“Whoo!”

I got a bit of whiplash when she released me and zapped off, but I was grateful she had the sense to let go instead of dragging me to the kitchen by my face.

Scoops followed Becky, Violet followed Scoops, and I was left in the living room with Becky's sidekick and infuriating little brother.

“Hey, Astro Boy,” the latter snapped, frowning sharply at me. “We need to talk.”

Becky's advice repeated in my mind as I met her brother's gaze, and I wondered for a moment if it had been prophetic. I was too dazed with surprise to resist as TJ pushed me up the stairs and then dragged me into his room. Bob hopped inside just before TJ slammed the door behind us, and the eleven-year-old shot me a serious glare.

“All right, buddy, I've got some things to say to you!” he bellowed.

“About what?” I asked, just barely remembering my accent in time.

“What do you mean, 'about what?'” TJ snapped. “Can you think of more than one thing that we have in common?”

Bob chirped something that sounded like a smart quip, and TJ eyed him sharply. “Mind your own business, Bob!” He turned back to me, still wearing the same juvenile frown. “Now, what was I saying? Oh, yeah. Just so you know, I still don't like you or anything…”

I tuned him out as he prattled on, focusing instead on Bob, who was discreetly making gestures behind his back. The monkey pointed to a WordGirl poster on the wall, then to TJ. He crossed his heart, crossed his hands, twisted his face into a silent snarl, and finally pointed at me.

I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. Becky had made TJ promise not to be mean to me. I doubted I'd be able to resist having a little fun with that, even if I knew in my heart it wasn't wise.

TJ crossed his arms, his voice coming back into focus with a tone dangerously close to respect. “… but since you saved Becky's life _and_ brought her home, I _guess_ that _kind of_ makes up for all those times you tried to defeat her back when you were my age… So… truce?”

TJ offered me his hand, and in my surprise, I couldn't help but smile. He was glaring off into space and refusing to meet my eyes, but initiating a ceasefire nonetheless. This was truly a miraculous show of faith.

I shook his hand and almost said something that would have certainly been at least _somewhat_ nice, but before I had the chance, TJ pointed at me with the same hand he'd just sealed our truce with and angrily blasted, “But you're still not good enough to be her boyfriend! You'll have to save her life at least twenty more times before you'll qualify for _that_ level of approval!”

I chuckled in my mind, amused at how totally TJ had blown his chance to see my better side. Pulling out my computer, I drawled in the best smug British tone I could muster, “Perfect! I'll set up a scoreboard right now.”

TJ went quiet as he watched me fiddle with my touch screen, until at last he grumbled in defeat and skulked off, muttering as he went, “You better not put her in danger just so you can save her, or you'll get demoted back to villain status!”

 

« ... »

 

Truth be told, I had been apprehensive about this dinner since Becky had first suggested it, so it was pleasantly surprising when things went smoother than I'd expected.

I purposely skirted around the whole 'running out of oxygen' business, knowing how my mother would react, and I was grateful to Becky for seamlessly playing along. The story continued, and somehow took on an almost lighthearted air. As we took turns telling about my trial-and-error charades conversations with Bob and Becky's frustrations with my increasingly reckless stunts, I found everyone at the table, including myself, smiling.

There were a couple of times when Becky and I remembered something differently and got in an argument over what had happened. Those moments invariably dissolved into a round of laughter among everyone except us, followed by Becky grumbling out an interpretation while Bob explained what ‘really’ happened.

Scoops was the only one who looked happy when we got to the part where Darix showed his true colors, and he scribbled furiously on his recording device while everyone else was staring nervously on the edge of their seats. Only when we told about Darix's malicious threats did he freeze in place and look up at us with wide, sympathetic eyes. Of course, by that point everyone else had started crying.

Becky glossed over a bit, clearly anxious to shift everyone's focus to a more palatable part of the story. She started talking about our escape, and as I listened to her, I slowly lost all drive to insert my own comments.

The way she talked about me—about what I said, what I did, and how everything played out as a result—made me sound so… gallant. She smiled and explained in loud, exaggerated tones how I had 'obviated' capture, or 'subjugated' a Lexiconian thug, or made an 'intrepid' comeback in the face of certain defeat, all the while defining her words of praise for anyone who didn't know them and inadvertently making the whole thing seem even _more_ incredible. Sitting there listening to her version of the story, I almost wondered if I had actually been there. When it was happening, I had been consumed with the single focused goal of getting us all out of danger. Was I really the person she was talking about? He sounded so much nobler than the cocky boy genius who I _thought_ had helped her escape.

“No way… He really _did_ all that?” Scoops asked, taking the thoughts right out of my brain.

Becky nodded and simply said, “I never could have made it home without him. He's a hero.”

My heart soared, and I started to seriously wonder if I was dreaming. A hero? Did Becky just call me a… _hero_? I never thought I'd wash away the 'villain' stigma, much less achieve the same prestigious title as WordGirl—and with WordGirl herself bestowing it upon me, no less.

I stared at her face, half expecting her to follow up with a laugh or a qualification of some kind. Instead she turned to look at me with a sparkle in her gorgeous eyes, and smiled. My breath caught in my throat, and my whole body felt warmer. Her smile was like sunlight.

Conversation continued around me, and I was vaguely aware that I was ignoring a few compliments and questions, but at that moment I was lost to the world. Before all this had happened, I was certain that I would never be able to redeem myself to Becky, but now I felt like I truly had. After two years of fighting her as her unashamed enemy, and another two years of fighting myself as her repentant friend, I could actually stand shoulder-to-shoulder with her as a fellow hero. I couldn't remember a time when I had felt so happy, or so proud.

 

« ... »

 

“ _Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.”_

— _Matthew 5:6_

 

* * *

 

**Author's Notes:**

**-** _**Chicken** _ _**à la King Served Over Waffles—** _ **This odd dish became a staple in my household in recent years, courtesy of my mom. :P I thought it sounded like the kind of thing the Botsfords might make, and I liked the little callback to chapter 4 as well.**

 **-** _**‘Crackers and Jam’—** _ **This was something Tobey said in** **‘Robo Camping’ that defined his personality in a way that was quite amusing to me. My grandpa used to say ‘cheese and crackers’ in a similar context. It’s obvious from his intelligence and vocabulary that Tobey is an old soul, but it’s dated little lines like this which make it clear to me that the poor thing is trapped in a body far too young for him. X)**

 **-** _**“If he gets to you, he wins.”** _ **— I doubt anyone remembers, but this line is actually a light reference to chapter 3 of my chapterfic** _**Saving Tobey.**_ **Originally it was something Becky said to** _**herself** _ **in regard to dealing with Tobey. :P**

 **-** _**Astro Boy** _ _**—** _ **For those who have no knowledge of** **‘Astro Boy,’ the titular character is a robot whose human name is Toby. Believe it or not, I actually didn’t notice that particular coincidence until** _**after** _ **I** **’d already written TJ calling Tobey that name. XP**

 **-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“She is the Sunlight” by Trading Yesterday—** _ **This song inspired that sappy little line of prose,** **‘Her smile was like sunlight.’**

 **-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“Here I Am (end title)” by Bryan Adams—** _ **This song is about beginnings. In this case, it** **’s about _new_ beginnings** **. Specifically, _Tobey s_** **new beginning. :3**

 **-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“Sky Full of Stars” by Coldplay** _ **— There might have been a better chapter to stick this one on, but I kind of like how Tobey and Becky can share the viewpoint this late in the story.**


	32. Elysium

**Foreword:**

**Well** **… here we are… It’s the end… How did we get here so fast? I feel like just the other day I was struggling to show that Tobey isn’t sure whether his motives are pure or not, and now it’s time for the ending! DX That’s just so weird to me. *_* Anyway, I hope you readers will be satisfied with this conclusion. Heaven knows I worked hard enough on it! (see Author’s Notes)**

 

* * *

 

 _Elysium_ [ih- **lee** -zee- _uh_ m] – any place or state of perfect happiness.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

I drew in a deep breath, enjoying the sensation of oxygen in my lungs even though I didn't need it. It was wonderful, this feeling of freedom and relief that rushed through me as I soared through the sky, looking fondly down at the city that was my charge, and my home. I never wanted to leave this place. Everything bright and beautiful in my life was here, and never again would I let anyone take it away from me without a fight. Never again would I let anyone manipulate me into abandoning the people I loved.

_Never again._

I looked down at the nearby roof of Megahard Industries, and that now-familiar endearing warmth coursed through my veins when I saw Tobey sitting in the same spot where I'd met him several weeks ago. Laughing at the perfection of the coincidence, I slowed to a gentle glide and quietly came in for a landing behind him.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

I kicked my feet back and forth as I stared down at the bustling street forty stories below. Ironically enough, this whole horrible ordeal which had once thrown me into the deepest despair I'd ever known, had ultimately left me with a new sense of hope. Gone were the days when I would think of Becky and feel guilty, or sorrowful, or ashamed. Now I could look at her and take comfort in knowing that when she looked at me, she no longer saw a villain or even a former villain, but a fellow hero.

For no good reason, I smiled and stared up at the clouds, feeling as if I could fly. The whole ‘hero’ business was great, but it wasn’t even the best part. Becky was _home_. She was back to stay, just a yell or a phone call away. Knowing that was such a _tremendous_ relief. Even if nothing else had been accomplished through all this, just the fact that my angel had returned to Earth would've been enough to keep me happy for a lifetime.

“You staying out of trouble, McCallister?”

I jolted in surprise, then turned around just in time to see Becky, as WordGirl, land on the rooftop and change into her normal clothes.

“Hey, who do you think you're talking to?” I flippantly retorted. “I have been reliably informed that I am a hero, and heroes don't get into trouble.”

Becky shook her head and gave me a condescending half-smile. “Just you saying that proves you haven't been a hero for long.”

I frowned, but didn’t argue further.

Becky walked over and sat down beside me, letting her legs hang off the edge of the building like mine. How many times had we been here like this? It was getting to be an unspoken tradition. She was quiet for a moment, then leaned back on her arms and said, “Tobey, remember when we were escaping Darix’s space station, and… the old you came out a bit?”

I flinched, remembering my moment of weakness when the station was coming apart and I was laughing like a psychopath. Feeling suddenly ashamed, I gave a nervous chuckle and softly muttered, “Oh, yeah. I’m sorry. I don't know what got into—”

“No, no,” she babbled, waving her hands dismissively and sounding concerned. “That’s—that’s not what I’m trying to say. Just the opposite, actually… Thinking back on it made me realize something about you.”

“Something… good?” I muttered hopefully.

She smiled, looking me straight in the eyes, and said in a kind yet serious tone, “I realized that not everything I associate with your having been a villain is evil. Some of it is just part of your personality—a _frustrating_ part, maybe, but not a _bad_ part—and I want to apologize if I’ve ever pressured you to change something about yourself just because it reminded me of the past.” She paused to take a deep breath, looked away for a second, then softly concluded, “I never wanted you to stop being who you are. I just wanted you to stop being evil.”

I blinked, confused. I _thought_ I understood what she meant, but it seemed so strange coming from her. “Soooo… You're saying that it's _okay_ for me to fly headlong into a gale-force rage?”

Two years ago, that had been a very _bad_ thing.

“If you're channeling that rage into helping or protecting someone, then yes,” Becky answered.

I hesitated, wondering if I should press my luck. “And… I can do my evil laugh, as long as _I'm_ not evil?”

Becky scrunched up her lips. Apparently, she had to think about that one. She straightened, staring down at the street below, and a short moment later she said, “ _Basically_ , yes… Let's not call it an 'evil laugh,' though. Let's call it an… 'enthusiastic… victory… laugh.'”

“Ah. Okay.”

I gave a normal sort of laugh, and she laughed right alongside me, until she snorted and then abruptly silenced, clapping her hands over her mouth and wincing as she looked away. The sight of it both warmed and pained my heart. It was so strange to think that Becky, _my_ Becky—a superheroine who the whole city loved—actually felt insecure about something as simple and charming as that delicate little snort that always found its way into her laughter. What strange creatures women were.

“Hey,” I said, beckoning for her to look at me. She did, though with obvious chagrin. I grinned and confidently said, “Just for the record, I think you have a wonderful laugh.”

Becky had already been blushing, but her embarrassed grimace suddenly changed into an embarrassed smile, and she once more averted her eyes.

“Just for the record,” she whispered, “I think you have a wonderful voice.”

Now it was my turn to blush, and I was suddenly glad that Becky wasn’t looking at me. _She_ _… she likes my voice?_

I’d always _hated_ my voice—ever since I first heard myself on a recording and could scarcely believe it was me. I didn’t think anyone but my mother could _like_ the way I sounded. That was why I used a fake accent most of the time, and the only reason I’d stopped using it around Becky was that she’d practically begged me to. It had never occurred to me that she actually…

My face involuntarily twitched into a smile, and I racked my brain for something else to say. Fortunately, it didn’t take long to think of something. There had been a question on my mind for a while, but it was buried in more important concerns before I’d had a chance to ask about it. Now was probably as good a time as ever to bring it up.

“Becky,” I ventured.

“Yes?”

“What is a dulcinea?”

It was a word Darix had used back when we first met him, and it had just occurred to me that I never had found out what it meant.

Becky blinked, looking surprised. She hesitated a moment, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “A dulcinea is… a ladylove, or a sweetheart.”

“Oh.”

Suddenly I wished I’d gone to the dictionary instead. Now we’d spend the next few moments sitting there in awkward silence.

“For example,” Becky continued, defying my expectation, “if I knew a boy who was very dear to me, and I wanted us to be sweethearts, I might tell him, ‘I want to be your dulcinea.’”

“I… see,” I muttered. This conversation was getting more awkward by the minute.

“You do?” Becky asked, looking suddenly up at me. Her eyes were searching, almost pleading.

Without thinking I blurted out, “Absolutely.” All I wanted was to change the subject to something less embarrassing. I adored Becky, but I hadn’t thought her capable of being this oblivious.

Becky beamed, looking happier and, if it was possible, even more beautiful than ever. After a moment, however, she stared off into space, and her smile wilted a little as she heaved a despondent sigh.

“Is something the matter?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t know… I just assumed you would be more excited about this.”

I frowned in confusion. “A—About what?”

She stared at me, evidently sharing my confusion. “About—what I just said.”

I made a bewildered face. I supposed she was used to people being excited and grateful when she defined a word, but I hadn’t realized that enthusiasm meant so much to her. Trying to accommodate her feelings, I halfheartedly added, “Well, it’s… it’s a lovely word.”

“Not about the word!” she snapped, “About what I just said!”

For a moment I was taken aback. Why was she so aggravated all of a sudden? “But… what you just said _was_ about the word.”

Her face twisted into a grimace that looked equal parts angry and disappointed, and she pointedly turned away. “Oh, forget it!”

“Forget _what_?” I was getting a little flustered myself now, and the fact that I had no idea what _she_ was so flustered about wasn’t helping.

Instead of answering my question, she bemoaned and bewailed, “You gave me the _perfect_ opening and everything, and now you’ve _ruined_ it!”

“Ruined WHAT?! All you did was define a word.”

“I was trying to be _subtle_! I was trying to use _subtext_!”

“Subtext?!”

“Yes! Subtext! Something that isn’t stated directly but can be figured out by someone who isn’t dense as a brick!”

“Darn it, Becky, I _know_ what it means!”

“No, you don’t! You know the definition, but you do _not_ know what it means!”

I frowned indignantly at her, wounded pride rearing its angry head. I nearly folded my arms, but just barely managed to restrain myself. However frustrated I might be with Becky, I was still determined to maintain a standard for how I treated her. Even so, I failed to hold back a note of sarcasm as I impatiently huffed, “Well, then, _Word_ Girl, do enlighten me.”

She glared at me for a moment, then said, “You asked me, ‘What is a dulcinea?’ Then I defined the word, which means ‘sweetheart,’ which means— _this_.”

She grabbed my hand, snugly interlacing our fingers. She might as well have attacked me with an offensive superpower, because her touch sent a million volts of electricity up my arm.

I hadn’t even recovered from the shock before she turned on me with a sharp frown and irritably snapped, “Subtext!”

I blinked, breathless, and therefore speechless. There was a moment of clarity—a split second in which my brain was jolted into comprehension—and then my rational mind submerged in a tidal wave of feelings.

“Oh…” I muttered stupidly. I was silent in thought for a moment, then— “OH!”

Becky snorted— _without_ laughing this time. “That’s more like it. Glad we’re _finally_ on the same page.”

I stared at her in disbelief. “You mean—?”

“Yes,” she interrupted, disgruntled but sincere.

“Are you serious?”

“ _Yes_.”

“You really—?!”

“Yes!”

“You… you want _me_ to be your—?”

“Oh, for crying out loud, Tobey, YES!!!”

She smacked her forehead with her left hand, while her _right_ remained decidedly in mine.

My eyes began to sting from being open for too long. I blinked, then coughed out something between a gasp and a laugh as an enveloping warmth rose up into my rapidly emptying brain. The truth, in all its incredible glory, finally sank in.

My lips curved further into an even broader smile, and I flung my arms in the air, still holding Becky's hand. “Yes!” I shouted. “Victory! I've finally—”

In my elation, I lost my balance and fell off the edge of the roof.

Becky was the one who screamed. She held so tightly onto my hand that I hadn't even started to experience the familiar sensation of the ground rushing at me before I jerked to a stop mid-air, dangling by my suspended left arm. I looked up and saw Becky still sitting on the edge of the roof, looking down at me with a mixture of worry, relief, and exasperation on her face. As she glowered down at me she testily snapped, “Tobey, what's gotten into you?!”

“Sorry,” I muttered, still grinning hopelessly. “I'm just—!”

I couldn't find the words to finish the thought. I felt like my head wasn't screwed on right, but somehow I didn't care. Without really knowing why, I bit my lip and laughed giddily through my nose.

Becky rolled her eyes, but then softened and smiled once more, lightly shaking her head. She took a quick look around, then levitated straight up. Slowly and gently she lifted me back up onto the ledge and deposited me safely on my feet, then settled back down on her own feet—still holding my hand. The scowl on her face barely looked annoyed anymore, and by the time she’d turned her eyes up to look at me, her expression had broken into a fond, playful smirk.

“C-Can I just—?” Before I could finish the question my excitement overcame me and I threw my arms around her. She tensed at my touch, but I wasn't worried. Somehow I knew that her surprise was of the pleasant variety. If I'd needed any assurance, I got it when she reached up her arms and returned my embrace, nestling her face against my shoulder. I held her tighter until I could feel her heart racing alongside mine, and then I was absolutely _sure_ that this was actually happening.

For so long I had been resigned that Becky’s tender affections could never be captured by someone like _me_ , who had done her so much harm in the past. It was impossible. Yet somehow, without even really _meaning_ to, I had done it. I had won her heart. Or rather, she had _given_ it to me. Willingly. The feelings of amazement and gratitude and relief were overwhelming. Ultimately they all just amalgamated into what I could only describe as sheer joy.

Though with that joy came a heavy, though not unpleasant, burden of responsibility. Becky deserved the best I could give her. She probably deserved _better_ than I could give her, but that was a moot point now. She had chosen _me_ , and that choice had, incidentally, illuminated an aspect of my own motives that I’d never before given much consideration. Now that she was here in my arms, I realized that it wasn’t enough for me to _have_ her. I wanted to _deserve_ her. And as that desire steadily took root, I settled upon a firm resolution. I would not stop changing. I would not take her reciprocation of my feelings as an affirmation that my work was done and that I needed no further improvement. It might be difficult—grueling, even—but I wouldn’t let that stop me. I would continue to search out my flaws, declare war on them, conquer them, and then start the whole process over again, as many times as it took.

It was my fervent ambition to become the one Becky deserved.

It was my dream come true to know that I was already the one she loved.

 

« ... »

 

_I am my beloved's, and his desire is for me._

— _Song of Solomon 7:10_

 

* * *

 

**Author's Notes:**

**-** _**Owari** _ **— Well, everyone** **… it’s over. It’s not** _**finished**_ **, mind you** **—I still have an epilogue and game prizes to publish—but for all intents and purposes, the story is over. I** **’d like to give a heartfelt thank you to everyone who stuck with me for the whole ride. I loved sharing this story with each and every one of you. :3**

 **-** _**Kokuhaku** _ **— Y'all have no idea how hard it was to settle on how to make Tobecky official in this chapter. 0_0 My first draft was dumb and OOC, and my second draft was so sappy and melodramatic that my brother vetoed it, and—well, you get the idea. DX I guess I've just been writing for these two so long and working so hard to gently and naturally draw them together, that when the time came to give them the final push, I had created an expectation for the fateful moment of their get-together that was** _**really** _ **hard to satisfy. X( But, after much writing, rewriting, and hair-tearing, I finally nailed down what you just read. Hopefully, I've managed to reach that impossible standard, because after all the patience and effort it took to coax these two into a romance, I really think they deserve as perfect an ending/beginning as I can possibly give them. :3**

 **-** _**What about the KISS?!?! D:(** _ _**—** _ **Oh, yeah** **… I know who I’m writing for. :} Try not to be too annoyed with me for actually making Tobey and Becky a couple and** _**still** _ **not having them kiss. I didn** **’t do it just to bug you. I did it because I wrote this story as a gift for my little brother, and he expressly forbade any kissing in it. So count your blessings, people! For a teenage boy, I think he was surprisingly gracious with the amount of romantic fluff he** _**did** _ **allow in his story. Besides, Becky and Tobey are still only 14, and I honestly think most kids shouldn** **’t even be** _**dating** _ **at 14, let alone kissing. DX I** **’m cutting my babies some slack because they’re both intelligent and mature beyond their years, and also because I know that,** _**as** _ **intelligent and mature young people, they know better than to rush into the physical stuff, thank you very much. ;]**

 **-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“Anywhere But Here” by Safetysuit—** _ **My sister** **’s husband played this song at their wedding, and it’s been special to me ever since. However, I can’t pretend I gave them an exclusive claim on my association with it. Sorry, Melanie, but the lyrics far too perfectly describe Tobey’s devotion to Becky for me to** _**not** _ **assign it to him. XP**

 **-** _**Theme Song:** _ _**“It Is You” by Dana Glover—** _ **I don** **’t think I have to explain this one. I mean, it’s obviously Becky, right? XP**

 _-_ _**Theme Song:** _ _**“Something Just Like This” by Coldplay—** _ **Some might find it strange that cocky little Tobey, even after Becky has named him a hero and therefore expunged his previous iniquities,** _**still** _ **isn** **’t entertaining the possibility that she might fall for him. I think of this as a sign of the humility and selflessness that he has finally gotten to stick, and I think it made for a much cuter scene when she tells him how she feels. :3 As for this song, it made me think of Tobey and Becky the moment I first heard it. The irony of Becky actually being a superhero is intriguing on its own, but the sentiment, when applied to a boy who used to be a villain, is that much more meaningful. Becky has declared Tobey a hero, but that isn’t why she fell for him. She doesn’t expect or need him to be a hero. She loves him because of who he is, because of the strength of character he has shown, and ultimately because of how much** _**he** _ **loves** _**her**_ **. Pure and simple. T-T**


	33. Epilogue

**** **Foreword:**

**I** **’d like to take this opportunity to address a concern that a few people on FFNet mentioned near the beginning of the story. I must apologize to any readers who noticed this seemingly grievous oversight, because at the time I simply feigned ignorance and ignored their inquiries. I did this because I had a secret plan for addressing this, and I didn’t want to spoil the surprise. The time has come, however, and I shall now unveil my sinister explanation for the conspicuous absence of a very important character. I hope you can all forgive me. :}**

 

* * *

 

Stultify [ **stuhl** -t _uh_ -fahy] – to make, or cause to appear, foolish or ridiculous.

 

« « « « « ж » » » » »

 

It’s good to be back!

Don't get me wrong, now; my vacation was great, but I am nonetheless excited to get back to work and catch up with WordGirl.

And wouldn’t you know it? There she is, currently in the guise of her alter ego (spoiler alert!) Becky Botsford, sitting on a park bench beside her former arch nemesis and current friend Tobey McCallister. The two of them are enjoying ice cream cones under the pleasant springtime sun, and appear to be happily chatting away about something that doesn't sound too important.

“So the pin I was wearing was the same one you gave me that day I almost destroyed Megahard Industries,” Tobey says, finishing up an explanation of some sort.

“Aww… You kept it all this time?” Becky replies. “And here I thought you were just wearing a bobby pin because you're weird.”

“You were the one who said it _wasn't_ weird!” Tobey snaps. As always his indignation is too comical and pathetic to be taken very seriously.

Apparently, I picked the right month to take some time off. It looks like things have been pretty slow around here.  
  
“Well! That was the best cruise I've ever been on,” I announce, calling the attention of the two teenagers. “Three whole weeks of nothing but room service and ocean air… I ought to go on vacation more often!” I laugh. Just for fun, I add, “So, what did I miss?”

The two teens look at each other with the same dubious expression. Odd… I wonder what _that_ _’s_ about.

“Shall we tell him?” Becky asks.

“Why should we?” Tobey replies, switching to his accent. “I thought the whole point of that press conference was so we _wouldn't_ have to tell the story fifteen times.”

“Wait, what?” I ask. “Press conference? Story? You mean something actually _happened_ while I was gone?”

Tobey looks thoughtfully at the ground, rubbing his chin. “You know, come to think of it, I'm _really_ glad he wasn't here for all that.”

“All what?”

“Oh, I wholeheartedly concur,” agrees Becky. “That would have been really strange.”

“ _What_ would have been strange?”

To my momentary relief Becky backpedals a bit, pragmatically pointing out, “Then again, he might have been able to warn us about some things.”

“Oh, we did _fine_ without his help,” Tobey smugly argues. “I’m more inclined to think he would’ve been a hindrance.”

My annoyance peaks at his insult. I have a keen mind to glare contemptuously down at _both_ of the little nuisances… Unfortunately, that isn’t possible. So I do the next best thing.

“Okay, wise guy, then how about _this_?” I ostentatiously clear my throat and announce in my best authoritative voice, “Feeling quite anxious to retell the story, Tobey and Becky explain to the Narrator everything that happened during his absence.”

Becky and Tobey give each other condescending smiles, then Becky looks up and says, “Nice try.”

“Oh, come on!” Could it truly be that an important event transpired and _I_ hadn't been here to see it? The very idea of it is inconceivable, and the fact that WordGirl is purposely keeping me in the dark is unconscionable. Lost in the shock of my violated sensibilities, I am reduced to begging. “ _Please_ tell me what you're talking about. What happened? What did I miss?”

“Fear not, irritating commentator,” Tobey taunts, standing to his feet. “If you stick around, I'm sure you'll find out eventually.”

“Eventually?!”

Tobey turns to Becky and extends a hand to her. “Shall we go, my dear?”

“Certainly, Darling,” Becky replies with a teasing smile, taking his hand and faking a British accent of her own.

And with that they set off, talking and laughing amongst themselves, hand-in-hand.

“Okay, now I _know_ something happened,” I mutter after them. “Seriously? _Nobody_ is going to tell me?”

The kids continue on their way, ignoring me completely, and I am dumbstruck.

So _this_ is what being out of the loop feels like…

 

« ... »

 

_Even a fool who keeps silent is considered wise; when he closes his lips, he is deemed intelligent._

— _Proverbs 17:28_

 

* * *

 

**Author's Notes:**

**-** _**Ohohoho!** _ _**—** _ **Well, I hope that was a satisfactory way to address the Narrator. I am quite fond of it, personally, but I must admit that my motive for handling him this way was entirely selfish. I really just didn** **’t think he’d fit in the story, particularly in the darker, more intense moments. Rather than simply never include him, I figured I’d just come up with a funny cop-out explanation for why he wasn’t around that whole time, and then stick it at the end of the epilogue. I’m so lazy-*cough*-I mean…** _**clever** _ **. XP**

**-** _**Present Tense** _ _**—** _ **If anyone was thrown off by my choice to do this scene in present tense, you can blame** _**The Hunger Games** _ **books for awakening me to the odd realization that present tense** _**can** _ **be used effectively in prose. Plus, I really liked the idea of using present tense for the Narrator** **’s POV. It just seems very narrator-like, ya know? ;)**


End file.
